uc-M"JrlSi 


$B  73 


5   30H 


J^.y/l. 


i^t^ 


rien^ 


El- 


YUn(  tz-j^A^  r/  %aJ^tr 


CASE      A 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/ecloguesofvergilOOvirgrich 


•       •    •' 


"N      ^^R^jj^gTjbJg^ 

^ 

'^^t  ^i^\%'^JSrJ^ 

"  hII'I 

§ 

js^^y%  ^o  jVjjs^i^^ 

1 

THE  BREVIARY 

TREASURES 

Wm 

¥ 

yi 

Issued  for  Subscribers  only 

^ 

By 

Kk 

NATHAN   HASKELL  DOLE 

Sf 

Privately  Printed 

rm 

BOSTON  MCMIII 

P@ 

qBk' 

^^^l^g^p 

SB 

757  copies  of  this  edition  are  printed 
for  advance  subscribers  only 


Copyright,  igo4 
By  Nathan  Haskell  Dole 


I^H^X  HQ«i*6  STCPHCIi^, 


r        •    • 


INTRODUCTION 

PuBLius  Vergilius  Maro  was  a  farm- 
er's son.  He  was  born  at  Andes,  near 
Mantua,  in  Cisalpine  Gaul,  in  October, 
70  B.  c.  His  education  seems  to  have 
been  unusually  thorough.  He  studied 
at  Cremona,  at  Mediolanum  (Milan),  at 
Naples,  where  Parthenius,  a  native  of 
Bithynia,  taught  him  Greek,  and  at 
Rome,  where  he  is  believed  to  have 
learned  the  Epicurean  philosophy  under 
Syron.  His  health  was  feeble,  and  that 
may  have  caused  him  to  return  to  his 
father's  small  estate,  where  he  cultivated 
the  Muses  at  his  leisure.  After  the 
battle  of  Philippi  in  42  b.  c,  he  was  dis- 
possessed of  his  farm,  which  came  into 
the  hands  of  a  veteran  named  Claudius. 
Vergil,  at  the  recommendation  of  Asinius 
Pollio,  applied  to  Octavianus  for  its  resti- 
tution. The  first  eclogue  seems  to  prove 
that  his  request  was  granted.  The  ten  ec- 
logues, or  Bucolics,  as  they  are  sometimes 
i 


Pa 


57 


515097 


called,  were  published  when  Vergil  was 
thirty-five,  and  probably  were  regarded  as 
a  tribute  to  the  great  Emperor.  They  are 
not  remarkable  for  their  originality.  In- 
deed, Vergil  was  more  of  an  imitator 
than  a  creator,  but  he  used  his  Greek 
models  to  great  advantage,  and  the  polish 
which  he  succeeded  in  communicating 
to  his  hexameters  was  never  excelled 
by  any  Roman  versifier.  It  is  a  rather 
interesting  circumstance  that  he  ends 
the  last  book  of  his  agricultural  poems 
with  a  repetition  of  the  first  line  of 
the  thanksgiving  eclogue,  thus  definitely 
proving,  if  other  proof  were  needed, 
that  the  Bucolics  preceded  the  Georgics : 

*'  Illo  Vergilium  me  tempore  dulcis  alehat 
Parthenope^  studiis  Jlorentem  ignobilis  oti^ 
Carmina    qui     lust    pastroum^     audaxque 

iuventOy 
Tityre^  te  patula  cecini  sub  tegmine  fagi^ 

The    question    of    selection    always 
arises    when    one   wishes    to    present   a 
faithful    picture    of    a    foreign     work. 
Frederick  Harrison  says : 
ii 


"  The  present  generation  has  pro- 
duced a  complete  library  of  versions  of 
the  great  classics ;  chiefly  in  prose,  partly 
in  verse,  more  faithful,  true,  and  scholarly, 
than  anything  ever  produced  before.  It 
is  the  photographic  age  of  translation 
and  all  that  the  art  of  sun-pictures  has 
done  for  the  recording  of  ancient  build- 
ings, and  more  than  that,  the  art  of 
literal  translation  has  done  for  the  under- 
standing of  ancient  poetry. 

"  A  complete  translation  of  a  great 
poem  is,  of  course,  an  impossible  thing. 
The  finest  translation  is  at  best  but  a 
copy  of  a  part ;  it  gives  us  more  or  less 
crudely  some  element  of  the  original; 
the  colour,  the  light  and  shade,  the  glow 
arc  not  there,  lost  as  completely  as  they 
are  in  a  photograph.  But  in  the  large  pho- 
tograph —  say  of  the  Sistine  Madonna  — 
the  lines  and  the  composition  are  there, 
as  no  human  hand  ever  drew  them. 
And  so  in  a  fine  translation  the  thought 
survives." 

Other  things  being  equal,  a  translation 
which  preserves  the  metre  of  the  origi- 
nal, as  far  as  possible,  will  be  the  most 
iii 


satisfactory.  It  has  been  long  believed, 
more  from  prejudice  than  from  any 
well-founded  reason,  that  the  so-called 
hexameter  is  not  adapted  to  the  genius 
of  the  English  language.  It  is  true  that 
in  English  iambics  and  anapests  are 
more  natural  than  dactyls  and  trochees. 
The  articles  have  a  way  of  demanding 
recognition,  and  they  must  be  reckoned 
with.  The  whole  secret  of  rhythmic 
verse,  as  far  as  the  modern  ear  is  con- 
cerned, lies  in  accent.  If  the  frame- 
syllables  are  strong  and  the  unaccented 
syllables  require  no  accentuation  to 
make  sense,  lines  will  be  smooth  and 
rhythmical.  It  is  wholly  a  question  of 
music,  and  being  a  question  of  music, 
there  is  no  earthly  reason  why  the  hex- 
ameter should  not  be  made  the  richest 
and  most  satisfactory  vehicle  for  expres- 
sion in  the  English  language,  as  it  was  in 
the  Greek  and  Latin. 

Lord  Bowen  adopted  the  hexameter  for 
his  unfinished  version  of  Vergil,  and  he 
thus  explained  his  method  and  modifi- 
cation : 

"  Hundreds  of  Vergil's  lines  are  for 
iv 


most  of  us  familiar  quotations,  which 
linger  in  our  memory,  and  round  which 
our  literary  associations  cluster  and  hang, 
just  as  religious  feeling  clings  to  well- 
known  texts  or  passages  of  Scripture. 
The  charm  of  such  associations  cannot 
be  preserved  in  a  translation,  unless  upon 
fit  occasions  a  corresponding  English  line, 
pointed  and  complete  in  itself,  can  take, 
however  imperfectly,  the  place  of  the 
well-known  original.  To  satisfy  this 
requirement,  Vergil  ought  to  be  translated 
more  or  less  lineally^  as  well  as  literally. 
The  heroic  metre  of  Pope  or  Dryden 
cannot  do  this,  nor  can  the  ordinary 
blank  verse  of  ten  syllables.  The  Ver- 
gilian  line  is  too  long  to  be  represented 
or  reproduced  in  either.  A  ballad  metre 
for  Vergil  is,  on  the  other  hand,  out  of 
the  question. 

"English  hexameters,  meanwhile, — 
the  vehicle  of  Longfellow's  '  Evangeline,' 
of  Clough's  '  Bothie,'  and,  first  in  metri- 
cal value  of  the  three,  of  Kingsley's 
'  Andromeda,'  —  have  never  become  pop- 
ular. The  late  Lord  Derby  condemns 
them  as  a  '  pestilent  heresy.'    Less  impet- 


uous  critics  will  probably  prefer  to  abstain 
from  despairing  of  a  metre  which  has 
been  so  little  the  subject  of  experiment 
and  labour. 

"With  his  usual  delicate  perception, 
Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  observed,  many 
years  ago,  that  the  English  hexameter 
contained  in  itself  resources  that  might 
yet  be  developed  fruitfully,  and  there  can 
be  little  question  but  that  the  genius  of 
Lord  Tennyson  or  of  Mr.  Swinburne 
would  make  of  the  English  hexameter  — 
even  in  a  prolonged  poem  —  more  than 
has  as  yet  been  deemed  possible.  Still, 
there  is  one  feature  in  its  structure  and 
formation  which  presents  a  considerable 
barrier,  —  the  cadence  of  the  final  foot 
of  two  syllables,  which,  whatever  its 
beauties  and  whatever  its  advantages  in 
a  more  melodious  language,  appears  to 
require  (in  English  use)  rhyme  to  prevent 
it  from  becoming  tedious,  and  yet  which 
it  would  be  impossible  to  treat  in  rhyme, 
even  if  the  attempt  were  not  certain  to 
result  in  a  mediaeval  jingle. 

"  In  the  present  volume  an  effort  has 
been  made  to  accommodate  the  genuine 
vi 


hexameter  to  English  purposes  by  short- 
ening the  final  dissyllabic  foot  into  a  foot 
of  a  single  syllable.  The  pure  classical 
hexameter  may  be  illustrated  by  a  verse 
which  the  poet  Coleridge  has  left  behind 
for  an  English  specimen : 

" '  In  the  hexameter  rises  the  fountain' s  sil- 
very column.^ 

I  have  discarded  the  final  dissyllable,  and 
put  in  place  of  it  a  single  syllable  only 
—  a  process  which  would  convert  the 
Coleridgian  line  into  the  following : 

"  In  the  hexameter  rises  the  fountain^ s  sil- 
very spray. 

The  alteration  gives  us  a  verse  capable, 
amongst  other  advantages,  of  being  easily 
dealt  with  in  rhyme.  Although  a  trans- 
lation in  ryhme  involves  embarrassing 
necessities,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  habit 
has  taught  an  English  ear  to  extract  a 
pleasure  from  ryhme  which  is  appreciable 
and  valuable.  Rhyme  adds  to  our  sense 
of  adjustment  and  of  nicety,  and  awakens 
vii 


in  the  reader  an  interest  in  the  fortunes 
and  success  of  each  single  line  which 
reacts  usefully  on  the  industry  and  care 
of  the  translator. 

"  That  the  metre  so  produced  — 
though  inferior  to  the  classical  hexam- 
eter, and  shorn  of  a  syllable  which  in 
the  original  Latin  is  both  an  element 
of  beauty  and  a  source  of  sustained 
strength  —  is,  nevertheless,  a  fine  one, 
susceptible  of  varied  treatment,  full  of 
flexibility,  capable  of  rising  to  real 
grandeur,  no  failure  of  mine  to  manipu- 
late it  will  ever  make  me  doubt.  In  the 
hands  of  a  great  master  of  versification 
it  would  be  a  powerful  instrument. 
That  it  preserves  the  orderly  and  ma- 
jestic movement  of  the  Roman  hexam- 
eter it  is  not  possible  to  claim  :  nor 
can  the  cadence  and  caesura  of  the 
classical  model  be  consistently  imitated 
or  observed. 

"  Latin  is  Latin,  and  not  English. 
Pure  hexameters,  moreover,  as  Mr.  Cal- 
verly  points  out,  are  beyond  the  reach  of 
our  more  rugged  language,  and  the 
'  quantity  *  of  words  cannot  by  any 
viii 


amount  of  care  be  regulated  with  the 
same  precision  in  English  as  in  Latin. 
Two  consonants  following  a  single 
vowel  are  sufficient  in  Latin  —  except 
in  certain  specific  cases  —  to  make  the 
syllable  long.  English  poetry  never  has 
been  written  —  could  not,  indeed,  be 
written  —  on  so  musical  a  plan.  We 
must  take  our  tongue  as  it  is,  and  all 
that  can  be  done  in  the  way  of  quanti- 
tative purism  is  perhaps  to  attend  with 
fastidious  care  to  the  cultivated  pronun- 
ciation of  English  words,  and  to  observe 
such  differences  as  a  trained  sense  con- 
siders of  importance.  In  the  end  the 
ear  must  judge." 

This  is  not  the  place  for  controversy, 
but  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  remark 
that  both  in  Greek  and  in  Latin  —  and 
this  is  true  in  a  large  degree  of  the  lan- 
guages derived  therefrom  —  the  versifi- 
cation being  called  quantitative  allows 
an  unnatural  pronunciation.  The  beauty 
of  English  versification  which  makes  it 
a  thousand  times  superior  to  the  artificial 
perfection  of  the  classic  verse  is  that  the 
sense  must  coincide  with  the  sound.  A 
ix 


Frenchman  reading  French  verse  and 
neglecting  the  scansion  makes  prose  of  it, 
and  the  metrical  reading  of  Vergil  or 
Homer  is  nothing  but  meaningless  sing- 
song. 

Charles  Synge  Christopher,  Baron 
Bowen,  was  born  at  Woolaston,  Jan- 
uary I,  1835.  He  was  the  oldest  son 
of  the  Rev.  Christopher  Bowen,  a  mem- 
ber of  a  County  Mayo  family.  His 
mother  was  daughter  of  Captain  Sir 
Richard  Steele.  He  was  educated  prin- 
cipally at  Rugby,  where  he  was  a  leader 
both  in  athletics  and  in  scholarship. 
Both  in  cricket  and  in  football  he  had  no 
equal.  He  was  a  remarkable  jumper, 
often  leaping  over  a  cow  as  it  stood. 
He  carried  off  nearly  all  prizes,  winning 
one  scholarship  after  another.  He  was 
made  D.  C.  L.  in  1883,  and  two  years 
later  Balliol  College  appointed  him  vis- 
itor —  the  highest  honour  in  its  gift.  For 
several  years  he  contributed  regularly  to 
the  Saturday  Review^  but  differences 
arose  between  him  and  the  editor,  and 
he  declined  to  accept  a  similar  position 
on  a  rival  journal.  In  1861  he  was 
X 


called  to  the  bar  and  almost  immediately 
secured  a  lucrative  practice.  In  1865 
his  health  failed,  and  during  the  rest  of 
his  life  was  always  precarious.  In  1879 
he  was  appointed  as  judge  on  the  Queen's 
Bench.  In  1888  was  promoted  to  be 
judge  of  the  Court  of  Appeal,  and  was 
knighted.  In  1893  ^^^  made  Lord  of 
Appeal  and  granted  a  life  peerage.  He 
did  not  live  long  to  enjoy  the  honours 
that  were  heaped  upon  him.  His  health 
entirely  failed,  and  he  died  April  10, 1894. 
He  was  regarded  as  remarkable  for  his 
subtlety  and  rapidity  of  perception,  for 
his  extraordinary  power  of  refined  dis- 
tinctions, for  his  elegant  precision  of 
language,  for  his  wit  and  charm  of  con- 
versation. He  was  the  author  of  many 
oft-quoted  sayings.  In  1868  he  pub- 
lished a  plan  for  submitting  to  a  court  of 
arbitration  all  the  differences  that  were 
likely  to  arise  between  the  United  States 
and  England  concerning  the  War  of  the 
Rebellion.  His  translation  of  a  part  of 
Vergil  was  published  in  1887.  ^^ 
promised  to  complete  it,  but  the  promise 
was  never  fulfilled.  N.  h.  d. 

xi 


ECLOGUE   I. 

TITYRUS 

TITYRUS.       MELIBOSUS 
Melihoeus 

Thou,  my  Tityrus,  under  a  beech-tree's 

broadening  shade 
Tunest  a  slender  reed  to  a  song  of  the 

wild  wood  glade  — 
We  from   our  own   dear  land   and  her 

cornfields  sweet  must  away, 
5 


Flying  from  home.  In  the  shadow  re- 
clined thou  passest  the  day, 

Teaching  the  forest  echoes  the  fair 
Amaryllis  to  praise. 

Tityrus 

Ah !  to  a  god,  Meliboeus,  we  owe  these 

halcyon  days ! 
In  these  eyes  he  will  ever  be  God;  on 

his  altar  divine 
Often  a  tender  lamb  shall  bleed  from  a 

sheep-cot  of  mine ; 
*T  is  of  his  grace  my  cattle  are  roaming 

yonder  the  plains, 
I  on  a  reed  of  the  meadow  may  pipe  my 

favourite  strains. 

Melibceus 

Envy  I  bear  thee  none,  though  I  marvel 

much ;  for  unrest 
Reaches  as  far  as  the  meadows  around 

us.     Feebly  at  best 
These  she-goats  I  am  driving,  and  lead 

one  laggard  behind. 
Here    in    the    thick-grown    hazels    she 

dropped  —  last  hope  of  a  flock  — 
6 


Two  young  kidlings  lately,  alas,  on  the 

scaur  of  the  rock  ! 
This  was  the  sorrow  that  often,  had  I 

been  wiser  inclined. 
Oaks  by  the  lightning  rent,  I  remember, 

warned  me  to  mind. 
Oft  from  the  holm-oak's  hole  on  the  left 

did  a  raven  portend. 
Yet,  my  Tityrus,  tell  us  the  god  thou 

callest  a  friend. 

Tityrus 

Rome,  as  the  people  name  her,  I  fancied, 

fool  that  I  am. 
Like  this  town,  Meliboeus,  of  ours  — 

where  many  a  lamb 
Goes    from    our    shepherd    folds    new 

weaned.     So  used  I  to  note 
Puppies  resembled   the   hound,  and  the 

kids  their  mother  the  goat. 
So  was  I  alway  wonted  to  measure  the 

great  by  the  small. 
Yonder   imperial   city  her  crest    uplifts 

above  all. 
As   among  wayside    saplings   the  giant 

cypresses  show. 
7 


Melthceus 

What    was    the    mighty    occasion    that 
Romeward  called  thee  to  go  ? 


Tttyrus 

Freedom,  late  as   it  was,  looked  down 

where  slothful  I  lay, 
When    from    the   scissors   I   found    my 

beard  fall  whiter  away. 
Late  as  it  was  looked  down,  and  arrived, 

as  the  years  rolled  on. 
When    Amaryllis    ruled    me,   and    fair 

Galatea  was  gone. 
Since,  I  confess,  so  long  as  I  loved  Gal- 
atea the  fair, 
Hope  I  had  little  of  freedom  —  of  thrift 

had  never  a  care. 
Many  a  victim  went  from  my  herd  to 

the  temple  floor. 
Many  a  rich  milk  cheese  to  a  thankless 

city  I  bore. 
Homeward    ever   I  came  with  a    purse 

unfilled  as  before. 


8 


Melibaeus 

Often   I  asked    me  the   reason  of  sad 

Amaryllis's  prayers, 
Wondered  for  whom  she  had  left  in  her 

pear-tree  hanging  the  pears : 
Tityrus  hence  had  departed  —  and,  Tit- 

yrus,  even  the  pines 
Wanted  thee  home,  and  the   fountains 

and  these  thy  veriest  vines. 


Tityrus 

Had  I  a  choice  ?     There  only  can  slaves 

be  released  from  the  chain. 
Nowhere  else  to  the  presence  of  gods  so 

gracious  attain. 
Here  I  beheld,  Meliboeus,  the  youthful 

hero  for  whom 
Twice  six  days  our  altars  with  annual 

offerings  fume. 
Here  from  his  lips  first  fell  the  reply : 

"  My  children,  in  peace 
Feed  as  of  old  your  cattle,  and  rear  your 

bulls  to  increase." 


Melibceus 

Blest  old  man  !  Thy  fields  will  be  left 

thee  then,  and  indeed 
Ample  enough  to  content  thee,  although 

bare  stone  overlie 
Every  pasture  strewn  with  the  mud  and 

the  marshland  reed. 
No  unaccustomed  grasses  will  poison  the 

ewes  as  they  breed, 
Never  contagion  spread  from  the  flock 

that  is  browsing  nigh. 
Here,     by     the     well-known     streams, 

and  the  hallowed  springs,  it  shall 

still 
Thine  be  to  drink  cool  draughts  of  re- 
freshing shade  to  thy  fill ; 
Here,  as  aforetime  ever,  the  hedge  on 

the  boundary  line. 
Feeding  Hyblaean  bees  upon  willow  blos- 
soms of  thine. 
Oft    shall  woo   thee  to    sleep  with  its 

gentle  whisper,  and  long 
Under  his  upland  rock  shall  the  dresser 

carol  his  song. 
Nor  shall  the  hoarse  wood-pigeons  the 

while,  thy  pets,  nor  the  dove 
lO 


Cease  from  a  plaintive  cooing  in  high 
elm  branches  above. 

Tityrus 

Yea,  and  the  light-limbed  stags  shall  be 
sooner  fed  upon  air, 

Sooner  the  sea  on  its  beaches  the  fish 
leave  stranded  and  bare, 

Outcasts  each  upon  alien  shores,  by  the 
Araris  stream 

Parthian  dwell,  on  the  Tigris  the  Ger- 
man water  his  team. 

Ere  from  remembrance  of  ours  his  be- 
nignant look  is  effaced. 

Meliboeus 

Wanderers  we !  some  fated  to  see 
parched  Africa's  waste, 

Scythia's  wilds,  and  the  Cretan  Oaxes  in 
torrents  whirled ; 

Some,  far  Britain's  people,  remote  from 
the  habited  world. 

Ah !  shall  I  ever  again,  as  the  years  roll 
onward,  behold 

Home's  dear  fields,  this  cot  with  its  turf- 
thatched  roof  as  of  old  ? 
II 


See  what  is  left  of  my  kingdom  —  a  few 

poor  oats  in  the  grain  ? 
Over  the  sods  I  have  turned  shall  a  law- 
less soldiery  reign, 
Barbarous    legions    reap  ?     Is   it    hither 

that  long  Discord 
Leads  our  land  !     Have  we  sown  these 

fields  for  an  alien  horde ! 
Go,  Melibceus,  engraft  thy    pears,   thy 

vineyard  array ; 
Hence,  my  goats  —  poor  flock  that  was 

once  so  happy  —  away  ! 
Never  again,  in  the  hollow  of  some  green 

cavern  at  rest, 
Shall  I  behold  ye,  clinging  to  yon  clifPs 

briary  breast ; 
Songs  no  more  shall  I  sing  ye ;  with  me 

no  more  shall  ye  rove. 
Browsing  the  cytisus  blossoms,  and  bitter 

willows  ye  love. 

Tityrus 

Yet  thou  mightest  at  least  for  the  night 

in  my  cottage  rest. 
Couched    upon    branches    green.     We 

have  apples  ripe  of  the  best, 
12 


Chestnuts    mealy,  and    plentiful    cheese 
from  the  new  milk  pressed. 

See    in    the    distance    already  the    roof 
stacks  smoke  to  the  sky, 

Lengthening    shadows    fall    from     the 
mountain  ranges  on  high. 


13 


ECLOGUE   II. 
CORYDON 

CoRYDON,  humble  shepherd,  the  lovely 
Alexis  adored  j 

Could  not  look  to  be  honoured  of  one 
so  dear  to  his  lord  ; 

Still  to  the  beeches  thick,  and  the  tree- 
tops  heavy  with  shade. 

Daily  he  came,  and  alone  to  the  moun- 
tain and  listening  glade 

Poured  in  a  fruitless  longing  the  simple 
songs  he  had  made : 
14 


Cruel    Alexis !  are    all    of   my  songs 

passed  heedlessly  by  ? 
Wilt  thou  never  have  pity,  but  drive  thy 

lover  to  die  ? 
Even  the  cattle  now  of  the  shade  and 

the  cool  are  in  quest ; 
Emerald  lizards  hide  in  the  thornwood 

thicket  at  rest. 
Thestylis  now  for  the  reapers,  who  flag 

in  the  furious  sun, 
Bruises  the  thyme  and  the  garlic,  her 

fragrant  grasses,  in  one. 
Only  the  husky  cicalas  and  I,  still  track- 
ing thy  feet, 
Waken  the  vineyard  echoes  from  sleep, 

in  the  noonday  heat. 
Better  to  suffer,  methinks,  Amaryllis  in 

angriest  air. 
Better  her  humours  proud  to  endure,  or 

Menalcas  to  bear. 
Dark  though  he  be  of  complexion,  and 

thou  all  snowily  fair ! 
Trust  not,  beautiful  one,  fair  cheeks  too 

blindly,  for  —  mark  ! 
White    hedge   flowers  we    abandon,  to 

gather  the  hyacinth  dark. 


15 


Thou  dost  scorn  me,  Alexis,  nor  carest 

about  me  to  know, 
How  I  am  wealthy  in  sheep,  and  in  milk 

that  is  white  as  the  snow; 
Ewe-lambs  mine  by  the    thousand    the 

mountains  of  Sicily  roam ; 
Neither  in  summer  nor  winter  does  new 

milk  fail  me  at  home. 
Ditties  I  sing,  that    he    sang  when    he 

folded  nightly  his  sheep, 
Dirce*s  great  Amphion,  on   Aracynth's 

Actian  steep. 
Nor  am  I  all  ill-shaped  :  I  beheld  me  of 

late  in  the  sea 
When  wind-lulled  its  waters  were  laid, 

and  if  only  there  be 
Truth  in  the  mirror,  and  thou  our  judge, 

no  Daphnis  I  fear. 
Would  that  it  pleased  thee  in  these  poor 

haunts  and  in  lowliness  here 
Under  my  cottage    roof  to  abide,  now 

hunting  the  deer. 
Driving   now  with   a  mallow  of  green 

our  kids  to  the  lea  ! 
Thou  shalt  rival  at  song  great  Pan,  in 

the  forest  with  me. 


i6 


Pan  was    the  first    musician  with   wax 

who  taught  us  to  bind 
Reed  upon  reed ;  great  Pan  to  the  flock 

and  the  shepherd  is  kind. 
Nor  if  the  reeds  have  wounded  thy  lip, 

stay  thou  to  repine ; 
What  did  Amyntas  pay,  to  possess  these 

secrets  of  mine  ? 

I  have  a  pipe  that  of  old  Damoetas  gave 

me,  a  prize 
Fashioned  of  hemlock  stalks ;    they  are 

seven,  of  varying  size. 
Dying  he  said :  "  It  is  thine,  since  thou 

to  thy  master  art  next." 
So    Damoetas    spake;    and    the    foolish 

Amyntas  was  vexed. 
Two  young  roes  of  the  mountain  besides 

—  I  found  them  remote 

Hid  in  a  perilous  glen,  with  white  still 

dappled  their  coat ; 
Twice  each  day  each  feeds  from  a  ewe 

—  I  have  kept  them  for  thee ; 
Long   has    Thestylis    asked    to    possess 

them,  and  hers  shall  they  be. 
Since  thou  thinkest  but  little  of  all  gifts 
offered  by  me. 

17 


Beautiful  one,  come  hither !  For  thee, 

look,  nymphs  of  the  glade 
Bring  full  baskets  of  lilies ;  and  one  fair 

Naiad  has  made, — 
Gathering  violets  pale,  and  the  poppies 

tall,  by  the  way,  — 
Posies  of  scented  anethus  in  flower,  and 

daffodils  gay ; 
Then    with    casia   twining    the   grasses 

sweet  of  the  dells. 
Brightens  with  marigold  yellow  the  bend- 
ing hyacinth  bells. 
Quinces  myself  will  bring  with  a  down 

of  delicate  white. 
Chestnuts  in  which  my  love   Amaryllis 

used  to  delight ; 
Waxen  plums  shall  be  honoured  —  the 

fruit  thou  lovest  —  as  well. 
Ye    too,    bays,  will    1   pluck,  and    the 

myrtles  near  ye  that  dwell 
Planted  together,  for  sweetly  beside  each 

other  ye  smell. 

Corydon,  thou  art  poor !  and  to  gifts  in- 
different he ! 

Still  were   lolla  the  winner,  in  gifts  if 
challenged  of  thee. 
i8 


Misery !  what  am  I  after !     As  lost  in 

sorrow  I  sing, 
Winds  break  loose  on  my  flowers,  and 

the  wild  boar  into  the  spring ! 
Why  dost  foolishly  fly  me  ?     The  gods 

too  dwelt  in  the  glade 
Once,  with  the  Trojan  Paris.     Let  Pal- 
las, cities  that  made. 
Live  herself  in  her  cities.     Be  ours  in 

the  woods  to  delight ! 
Lioness  chases    the  wolf,  wolf  follows 

the  goat  in  her  flight ; 
Frolicking  she-goat  roves  to  the  cytisus 

flower  to  be  fed ; 
Corydon  follows  Alexis ;  so  each  by  his 

liking  is  led. 
Homeward,  behold,   inverted  the   share 

comes  drawn  by  the  steer ; 
Double  the  lengthening  shadows  become, 

for  sunset  is  near ; 
Love  still  burns  in  my  bosom ;  can  love 

know  measure  or  rest  ? 
Corydon,  ah !  what  madness  thy  simple 

soul  has  possessed ! 
Half  unpruned  thy  vine !     On  an  elm 

too  leafy  it  lies ; 


19 


Better  finish  betimes,  for  the  use  of  the 
hour  as  it  flies, 

One  of  thy  baskets  of  reeds  and  of  lis- 
som withies  entwined ; 

If  one  lover  be  cruel,  another  is  easy  to 
find. 


20 


ECLOGUE   III. 
PALiEMON 

MENALCAS.       DAMCETAS.       PAL^MON 
Menalcas 

Whose  is  the  flock,  Damoetas?      Are 
yon  Meliboeus's  sheep  ? 

Damoetas 

Nay,  they  are  Agon's,  and  ^gon  en- 
trusts them  now  to  my  keep. 

21  r 


Menalcas 

Poor  things,  ever  unlucky  !     The  master 

of  flock  and  of  herd 
Courting  Neaera,  and  trembling  for  fear 

my  love  be  preferred. 
Twice  each  hour  this  stranger,  he  hires, 

comes  milking  the  dams ; 
Strength    is  drained   from   the   mothers, 

and  milk  withdrawn  from  the  lambs. 


Damoetas 

Ere  thou  slanderest  others,  bethink  thee 

longer.     We  know 
All  that  the  peeping  eyes  of  the  he-goats 

witnessed,  and,  though 
Lightly  the   gay  nymphs  laughed,  what 

chapel  ye  chose  for  the  scene. 


Menalcas 

*T  was,  I  suppose,  when  they  saw  me 
through  Micon's  vineries  go 

Hacking  with  knife  of  a  villain  his  vine 
shoots  tender  and  green. 

22 


Damoetas 

Yea,  or  at  those  old  beeches    the  day 

thou  brakest  in  twain 
Daphnis's  bow  and  his  arrows,  Menal- 

cas  peevish  and  vain  ! 
When    to   the   boy    thou    sawest    them 

given,  thy  spirit  repined ;  — 
Thou  hadst  died  if  a  mischief  thou  hadst 

not  done  to  mankind  ! 


Menalcas 

What  will  the  master  do  if  the  knaves 
these  villanies  dare ! 

Did  I  not  see  thee,  caitiff,  in  ambush 
laid,  with  a  snare 

Angling  for  Damon's  goat,  and  his  wolf- 
hound baying  with  might  ? 

And,  when  I  shouted,  "Whither  away 
yon  fellow  ?     A  care, 

Tityrus,  have  to  thy  flock,"  to  the  reeds 
thou  stolest  from  sight. 


23 


Damcstas 

Vanquished  fairly  in  song,  was  he  not 

yon  goat  to  resign, 
Won  by  my  flute's  sweet  singing  ?    The 

goat,  I  can  tell  thee,  was  mine ; 
Thus    much   Damon    allowed,    but    his 

debt  was  unable  to  meet. 


Menalcas 

Thou  match  Damon  in  singing  ?     And 

hast  thou  ever  a  flute 
Jointed  with  wax?      Was  it  not,  poor 

dunce,  thy  sorry  pursuit 
Wretched  ditties  to  murder  on  grating 

straws  through  the  street? 


Damoetas 

Shall  we  essay  what  in  music  between 

us  each  can  achieve 
Singing  in  turn  ?     This  heifer  I  lay  thee 

lest  thou  decline  — 
Twice  each  day  she  is  milked;  though 

still  at  her  udders  we  leave 
24 


Two  young  calves :  what  stake  for  the 
coming  battle  is  thine  f 

Menalcas 

Nothing  from  yonder  flock  can  I  venture 

safely  to  find : 
I  have  a  father  at  home  and  a  stepdame 

harshly  inclined  — 
Twice  in  the  day  both  reckon  the  sheep, 

one  ever  doth  see 
Counted  the  kids.     What  is  grander,  as 

thou  thyself  wilt  agree, 
Since  upon  folly  thy  spirit  is  bent,  two 

cups  I  will  stake, 
Beechen,  embossed  all  round  —  the  in- 
spired Alcimedon's  make. 
Wrought   thereon   by   the    skill    of  the 

graver,  a  flexible  vine 
Droops  o'er  clusters  of  berry  from  ivies 

pale  that  entwine : 
Figures  twain  in  the  midst :  one  Conon, 

and,  —  how  was  he  hight  ?  — 
He,  who    has    mapped    out    heaven    to 

inform  earth's  nations  aright. 
Which  be  the  seasons  for  reapers  and 

those  who  stoop  at  the  plough. 
25 


No  lip  ever  has  touched  them :  I  keep 
them  hoarded  till  now. 


Damcetas 

Two  fair  cups  of  the  same  Alcimedon's 
making  are  mine ; 

Round  their  handles  he  wrought  an  acan- 
thus lissom  to  twine : 

Orpheus  placed  in  the  midst,  and  the 
woods  that  dance  as  he  plays. 

No  lip  ever  has  touched  them  —  I  keep 
them  hoarded,  —  as  thine. 

Seen  by  the  side  of  the  heifer  thy  cups 
are  nothing  to  praise. 


Menalcas 

Nay !  Thou  shalt  not  escape  me  — 
whatever  thou  wilt,  I  concede  — 

Choose  but  a  Judge !  And  Palaemon, 
who  passes  yonder,  at  need. 

So  henceforth  will  I  cure  thee  of  chal- 
lenging others  to  sing. 


26 


Damcetas 

Start !  an  a  song  thou  knowest  —  I  shall 
not  keep  thee,  I  fear 

No  man's  voice.  But,  Palaemon,  a  sin- 
gle word  in  thine  ear : 

Grave  the  affair,  to  its  solving  a  wise 
intelligence  bring. 


Palcemon 

Sing  then,  since  upon  softest  grass  we 
are  seated,  the  three ; 

Now  each  meadow  is  teeming,  in  leaf- 
birth  every  tree,    ' 

Now  all  forests  are  green,  now  fairest 
in  beauty  the  year. 

Thine  to  begin,  Damoetas ;  Menalcas 
second  shall  be. 

Ring  the  alternate  changes ;  a  change  to 
the  Muses  is  dear. 


Damoetas 

Muses !    from  Jove  the  beginning ;  the 

worlds  are  full  of  his  power. 

27 


He  makes  earth  to  be  fruitful ;  he  hears 
my  songs  with  delight. 

Menalcas 

Dear  am  I  also  to  Phcebus's  heart ;  his 

favourites  flower 
Aye   in   my  garden  —  the  bay  and  the 

hyacinth  scented  and  bright. 

Damoetas 

Apple  in  hand,  Galatea,  she  pelts   me, 

frolicsome  fair, 
Flies  to  the  willows,  and  wishes,  before 

she  is  hid,  to  be  seen. 

Menalcas 

Ah !  my  darling  Amyntas,  before  I  call 

him,  is  there  — 
More  of  a  friend  with  my  puppies  than 

Delia  even  has  been. 

Damoetas 

Gifts  I  have   found   for  my   beauty  — 

myself  I  marked  from  below 

28 


Where  wood-pigeons  have  built  in  the 
tallest  trees  of  the  glen. 

Menalcas 

Ten  gold  apples  I  sent  my  love  from  a 

vv^ilding  I  know ; 
All  I  was  able  —  to-morrow  will  send 

him  as  many  again. 

Damcetas 

Oh,  for  the  times  Galatea  has  met  me  — 

the  things  she  confessed  ! 
Waft  to  the  ears  of  the  gods  some  part, 

thou  listening  wind ! 

Menalcas 

Ah !  what  boots  it,  Amyntas,  that  I  thy 

heart  have  possessed. 
If,  when  the  boar  thou  art  hunting,  the 

nets  my  lot  be  to  mind  ? 

Damcetas 

Send  me  thy  Phyllis,  lollaj  to-day  my 
birthday  is  kept: 
29 


Come  thyself  when  a  heifer  I  slay  for 
the  harvest  in  grain. 

Menalcas 

Phyllis  I  love  before  all.     When  I  left 

her,  lolla,  she  wept. 
"  Beautiful  boy,  farewell !  "  she  repeated 

again  and  again. 

Damaetas 

Wolves  are  a  grief  to  the  flock ;  to  the 
ripened  harvest  the  showers ; 

Winds  to  the  trees ;  my  grief,  Amaryllis 
in  anger  to  see. 

Menalcas 

Sweet  is  the  dew  to  the  seed;  to  the 
weaned  kid  arbutus  flowers  \ 

Willows  to  ewes  that  are  yeaning ;  but 
only  Amyntas  to  me. 

Damcetas 

Pollio  loves  my  verse,  though  of  rustic 
measure.     A  calf, 
30 


Muses,   fatten   in   honour  of  one  who 
reads  and  approves. 

Menalcas 

PoUio  makes   sweet   songs  of  his  own. 

In  a  poet's  behalf 
Fatten  a  bull,  now  butting,  and  spurning 

the  sand  with  his  hooves. 

Damoetas 

Pollio!    may  thy  lovers  a  bright  world 

visit  with  thee 
Flowing  with  honey,    the  bramble    for 

them  bear  spice  of  the  nard. 

Menalcas 

Who  hates  Bavius  not,  let  him  lover  of 

Maevius  be ; 
Plough  with  a  team  of  foxes,  and  milk 

he-goats  for  reward. 

Damcetas 

Boys,  who  are  gathering  flowers  and  the 
berries  that  grow  on  the  ground, 
31 


Run,  for  a  cold  snake  lurks  in  the  grasses 
yonder  unseen ! 

Menalcas 

Go  no  further,  my  sheep :  unsafe  yon 

bank  will  be  found. 
Look  at  the  ram  still  drying  his  dripping 

fleece  on  the  green. 

Damcetas 

Tityrus,  drive  from  the  river  the  she- 
goats  seeking  to  eat. 

When  it  is  time,  myself  I  will  wash 
them  clean  in  the  spring. 

Menalcas 

Fold,  my  children,  the  ewes;  for  the 
milk  once  touched  by  the  heat. 

As  but  of  late,  our  fingers  in  vain  to  the 
udders  will  cling. 

Damcetas 

Lean  my  bull,  though   he  feeds  on  the 
richest  tares  that  are  grown  ! 
32 


One  and  the  same  love  wasting  the 
flock  and  the  master  as  well. 

Menalcas 

Mine  no  love  can  account  for ;  the  skin 
scarce  cleaves  to  the  bone. 

Evil  eye  that  I  know  not  has  cast  on 
the  lambkins  a  spell. 

Damcetas 

Tell  me  in  what  far  land  —  and  for  ever 

be  Oracle  mine  — 
Three  ell-lengths  of  the  sky  are  alone 

left  open  to  see. 

Menalcas 

Tell  me  in  what  far  region  the  names 

of  kings  are  a  sign 
Writ  on  the  wild  flower's  petals  —  and 

thine  my  Phyllis  shall  be. 

Palamon 

Mine  no  voice  that  can  settle  debate  so 
mighty.     The  twain 
33 


Equally  merit  the  heifer  and  each  fond 
lover  who  still 

Trusts  love's  sweetness,  or  finds  by  ex- 
perience bitter  its  pain. 

Close,  my  children,  the  sluices;  the 
meadows  have  drunk  their  fill. 


34 


ECLOGUE  IV. 
POLLIO 

Muses  of  Sicily's    fountain,  a   grander 

song  let  us  sing. 
Pleasure   to    some    nor   vines    nor    the 

humble  tamarisks  bring. 
Worthy  a   Consul's   ear  be  the  woods 

whose  praises  we  ring  ! 
Come  is  the  last  of  the  Ages,  in  song 

Cumaean  foretold. 

35 


Now  is  the  world's  grand  cycle  begun 

once  more  from  of  old. 
Justice  the  Virgin  comes,  and  the  Saturn 

kingdom  again ; 
Now  from  the  skies  is  descending  a  new 

generation  of  men. 
Thou   to  the  boy  in  his  birth,  —  upon 

whose  first  opening  eyes 
The  iron  age  shall  close,  and  a  race  that 

is  golden  arise,  — 
Chaste  Lucina,  be  kindly  !   He  reigns  — 

thy  PhcEbus  —  to-day  ! 
Thine  to  be  Consul,  thine,  at  a  bright 

world's  ushering  in, 
Pollio,  when    the    procession   of  nobler 

months  shall  begin  j 
Under  thy  rule  all   lingering  traces  of 

Italy's  sin, 
Fading   to   nought,   shall   free   us   from 

fear's  perpetual  sway. 

Life  of  the  gods  shall  be  his,  to  behold 
with  gods  in  their  might 

Heroes  immortal  mingled,  appear  him- 
self in  their  sight. 

Rule  with  his  Father's  virtues  a  world  at 
peace  from  the  sword. 

36 


Boy,  for  thine  infant  presents  the  caith 

unlaboured  shall  bring 
Ivies  wild  with    foxglove    around    thee 

wreathing,  and  fling 
Mixed  with  the  laughing  acanthus  the 

lotus  leaf  on  the  sward ; 
Homeward    at    eve    untended   the   goat 

shall  come  from  the  mead 
Swelling  with   milk;  flocks  fearless  of 

monster  lions  shall  feed  ; 
Even   thy    cradle   blossom   with    tender 

flowers,  and  be  gay. 
Every  snake  shall  perish ;  the  treacher- 
ous poison  weed 
Die,  and  Assyrian  spices  arise  unsown 

by  the  way. 

When  thou  art  able  to  read  of  the  heroes' 
glories,  the  bright 

Deeds  of  thy  sire,  and  to  know  what  is 
manhood's  valour  and  might, 

Plains  will  be  turning  golden,  and  wave 
with  ripening  corn ; 

Purple  grapes  shall  blush  on  the  tangled 
wilderness  thorn ; 

Honey  from   hard-grained  oaks  be  dis- 
tilling pure  as  the  dew ; 
37 


Though  of  our  ancient  folly  as  yet  shall 

linger  a  few 
Traces,  to  bid  us  venture  the  deep,  with 

walls  to  surround 
Cities,  and,  restless  ever,  to  cleave  with 

furrows  the  ground. 
Then  shall  another  Tiphys,  a  later  Argo 

to  sea 
Sail,  with  her  heroes  chosen  ;  again  great 

battles  shall  be ; 
Once  more  mighty  Achilles  be  sent  to  a 

second  Troy. 

Soon  when  strengthening  years  shall  have 

made  thee  man  from  a  boy. 
Trader  himself  shall  abandon  the  deep ; 

no  trafficking  hull 
Barter   her   wares;    all    regions    of   all 

things  fair  shall  be  full. 
Glebe  shall  be  free  from  the  harrow,  the 

vine  no  pruner  fear ; 
Soon  will  the  stalwart  ploughman  release 

unneeded  the  steer. 
Varied    hues   no  longer  the  wool   shall 

falsely  assume. 
Now  to  a  blushing  purple  and  now  to 

the  saffron's  bloom, 

38 


Cropping  the  meadow,  the  ram  shall 
change  his  fleece  at  his  need ; 

Crimsoning  grasses  colour  the  lambs 
themselves  as  they  feed. 

"  Ages  blest,  roll  onward  !  "  the  Sisters 

of  Destiny  cried 
Each  to  her  spindle,  agreeing  by  Fate's 

firm  will  to  abide. 
Come  to  thy  godlike  honours ;  the  time 

wellnigh  is  begun; 
Offspring  loved  of  immortals,  of  Jove 

great  scion  and  son  ! 
Lo,  how  the    universe    totters    beneath 

heaven's  dome  and  its  weight. 
Land    and    the   wide  waste   waters,  the 

depths  of  the  firmament  great ! 
Lo,  all  nature  rejoices  to  see  this  glorious 

day  ! 

Ah,  may  the  closing  years  of  my  life  en- 
during be  found,  — 

Breath  sufficient  be  mine  thy  deeds  of 
valour  to  sound,  — 

Orpheus  neither  nor  Linus  shall  ever 
surpass  my  lay ; 


39 


One    with    mother    immortal,  and    one 

with  sire,  at  his  side. 
To  Orpheus  Calliopeia,  to  Linus  Apollo 

allied. 
Pan,  were   he    here   competing,   did   all 

Arcadia  see. 
Pan,  by   Arcadia's   voice,  should    allow 

him  vanquished  of  me  ! 
Baby,  begin  thy  mother  to  know,  and  to 

meet  with  a  smile ; 
Ten  long  moons   she   has   waited,  and 

borne  her  burthen  the  while. 
Smile,  my  babe ;  to  his  feast  no  god  has 

admitted  the  child. 
Goddess  none  to  her  kisses,  on  whom  no 

parent  has  smiled. 


40 


ECLOGUE  V. 
DAPHNIS 

MENALCAS.       MOPSUS 

Menalcas 

Mopsus,  since  we  are  met  peradventure, 

both  of  us  strong, 
Thou  in  the  light  reed's  music,  and  I  in 

music  of  song. 
Were  it  not  well  where  the  hazels  with 

elm-trees  mingle  to  rest  ? 
41 


Mopsus 

Thou  art    the   elder,   Menalcas,  and    I 

would  do  thy  behest, 
Whether  we  make  for  the  shadows  that 

flicker  in  winds  of  the  west. 
Or  to  the  cave  for  a  choice;   and  the 

cave  how  chequered  with  shade. 
See,  from  the  straggling  clusters  of  wild 

vine  over  it  laid. 

Menalcas 

Only  Amyntas  on  these  our  mountains 
is  rival  of  thine. 


Mopsus 

What,  an  he  claim  to  be  equal  in  verse 
to  Apollo  divine  ? 

Menalcas 

Mopsus,    begin  I     some    song    of    thy 

making,  full  of  the  flame 
Phyllis  inspires,  or  in  Alcon's  praise,  or 

in  Codrus's  blame. 
42 


Tityrus,  yonder,  will  follow  behind  our 
kids  as  they  eat. 


Mopsus 

Words  that  I  carved  but  lately  on  bark 

still  green  of  a  beech. 
Fluting,  and  pausing  in  turn  to  engrave 

its  note  upon  each, 
I   will  essay.     Then   bid  thy  Amyntas 

seek  to  compete  ! 


Menalcas 

As  to  the  pale  green  olive  the  flexible 

willow  yields. 
As  to  the  blushing  rose  is  the  Celtic  reed 

of  the  fields, 
So  doth  Amyntas  beside  thee  in  my  poor 

judgment  appear. 


Mopsus 

Prithee,  Menalcas,  peace !  for  the  cave 
already  is  here. 
43 


{Sings) 

All  of  the  nymphs  went  weeping  for 
Daphnis  cruelly  slain  : 

Ye  were  witnesses,  hazels  and  river 
waves,  of  the  pain 

When  to  her  son's  sad  body  the  mother 
clave  with  a  cry, 

Calling  the  great  gods  cruel,  and  cruel 
the  stars  of  the  sky. 

None  upon  those  dark  days  their  pastured 
oxen  did  lead, 

Daphnis,  to  drink  of  the  cold  clear  rivu- 
let ;  never  a  steed 

Tasted  the  flowing  waters,  or  cropped 
one  blade  in  the  mead. 

Over  thy  grave  how  the  lions  of  Car- 
thage groaned  in  despair, 

Daphnis,  the  echoes  of  mountain  wild 
and  of  forest  declare. 

Daphnis  was  first  who  taught  us  to  guide, 
with  a  chariot  rein. 

Far  Armenia's  tigers,  the  choirs  of 
lacchus  to  train. 

Led  us  with  foliage  waving  the  pliant 
spear  to  entwine. 


44 


As  to  the  tree  her  vine  is  a  glory,  her 

grapes  to  the  vine, 
Bull  to  the  horned  herd,  and  the  corn  to 

a  fruitful  plain. 
Thou  to  thine  own  wert  beauty ;    and 

since  fate  robbed  us  of  thee, 
Pales  herself,  and  Apollo  are  gone  from 

meadow  and  lea. 
Where  in  the  furrow  we  sowed   great 

pearls  of  glistening  grain, 
Lo !  the  unfruitful  darnel,  the  oatstalks 

barren  appear. 
Tender  violets  once,  and  the  bright  nar- 
cissus were  here ; 
Thistles    now,    and  the    spikes  of  the 

Christ  thorn,  sharp  as  a  spear. 
Scatter   the   turf  with    leaves,   and    the 

fountains  border  with  shade. 
Shepherds,  for  Daphnis  wills  to  his  ghost 

these  offerings  made  ; 
Build  him  a  tomb,  and  upon  it  be  this 

the  memorial  laid  : 
Daphnis  was  I,  of  the  forest,  renowned 

from  the  earth  to  the  sky ; 
Fair  was  the  flock  I  tended,  but,  ah  ! 

still  fairer  was  I. 


45 


Menalcas 

Heaven's  own  poet,  to  me  thy  voice  and 

its  music  are  sweet 
As  soft  sleep  on  the  grass  to  the  tired, 

as  in  noonday  heat 
Quenching  of  thirst  at  a  fountain  from 

whence  comes  leaping  the  wave ; 
Brave  on  the  flute,  as  thy  master,  in  song 

thou  also  as  brave. 
Shepherd  blest !  thy  glory  shall  after  thy 

master's  shine. 
This    my  verse  in  repayment,  although 

poor  measure  for  thine, 
Lo !  I  will  give  thee,  and  lift  to  the  stars 

thy  Daphnis  anew, 
Yea   to   the   stars   raise    Daphnis  —  he 

loved  me  tenderly  too. 


Mopsus 

Can  I  be  given  a  reward  more  noble  than 

music  from  thee  ? 
Worthy  in  song  our  Daphnis  himself  to 

be  honoured,  and  we 


46 


Know    from    Stimichon's    praises    hov/ 
sweet  thy  melodies  be ! 

Menalcas  {sings) 

Clad  in  his  shining  raiment,  the  threshold 

strange  of  the  sky 
Daphnis  admires,  and  the  stars  and  the 

clouds  far  under  him  lie. 
Pleasure    blithe    in   the    glade    and   the 

realms  of  the  greenwood  now 
Reigns,  over  Pan  and  the  shepherds  and 

maiden  nymphs  of  the  bough. 
Wolves  no  more  now  menace  the  sheep 

—  no  meshes  intend 
Harm  to  the  doe,  since  Daphnis  to  gentle 

Peace  is  a  friend. 
Lo !  with  joy  to   the   heavens  they  lift 

their  glorious  voice. 
All    the   untonsured   mountains !      The 

rocks  break  forth  and  rejoice  ! 
Vineyards  echo :  "  A  god,  O  Menalcas, 

lo !  he  is  made  !  " 
Be    to    thy    people   gracious   and    kind. 

Four  altars  are  laid 
Here  :  twain,  Daphnis,  for  thee  ;  twain, 

grander,  Apollo,  are  thine  ! 
47 


Two  cups  yearly  with  new  milk  foam- 
ing, in  honour  displayed, 

Here  will  I  set  :  two  flagons  with  oil  of 
the  olive  that  shine, 

And,  above  all  things,  gladdening  the 
feast  with  gifts  of  the  vine, 

Over  the  fire  in  the  winter,  at  harvest- 
time  in  the   shade. 

Pour  thee  —  for  newest  nectar  —  in 
bowls  Ariusia's  wine. 

Songs  Damoetas  and  Mgon^  the  Lyctian 
singer,  shall  sing, 

Alphesibceus  mimic  the  Satyr  dance  in 
the  ring. 

Honours  such  shall  attend  thee,  when 
annual  vows  we  address 

Unto  the  Nymphs,  or  the  harvest  with 
lustral  offerings  bless. 

Long  as  the  boar  to  the  mountain,  the 
fish  to  the  river  is  true. 

While  bee  sucks  from  the  thyme,  and 
cicalas  drink  of  the  dew. 

Ever  shall  last  thy  name,  thy  praise,  thy 
glory,  and  now, 

As  to  lacchus  and  Ceres,  to  thee  each 
son  of  the  plough 


48 


Carry  his  prayer  each  year,  and  acknowl- 
edge duly  his  vow. 

Mopsus 

Ah  !  what  boon  can  I  give  thee  a  song 
so  sweet  to  repay  ? 

Neither  the  whispering  breath  of  the 
south  wind  now  on  its  way 

Brings  me  a  joy  thus  deep,  nor  the  thun- 
der of  surf  on  the  shore  — 

Nor  when  the  rock-strewn  valley  re- 
sounds to  the  torrent's  roar. 


Menalcas 

Take  thou  first  in  requital  a  frail  reed. 

From  it  I  learned : 
"  How  for  the  lovely  Alexis  the  shepherd 

Corydon  yearned  "  — 
Learned,  as  I  blew  it,  the  measure,  "  Are 

yon  MelibcEus's  sheep  ?  " 

Mopsus 

Take  in  return  this  crook,  that  Antigc- 
nes,  oft  as  he  sued, 
49 


Never  obtained  :  though  worthy  in  those 

old  days  to  be  wooed  — 
Knotted    with    brass    all    round    it,    a 

beauty  to  have  and  to  keep. 


50 


ECLOGUE   VI. 


VARUS 

While    she  was   young,   my  Muse  in 

Sicilian  measure  was  well 
Pleased  to  disport  her,  nor  blushed  in  the 

greenwood  cover  to  dwell. 
When  I  was  fain  to  be  telling  of  kings 

and  battles,  mine  ear 
Phoebus    plucked    with   a   warning :  — 
"  The  shepherd's  duty  is  clear, 

51 


Tityrus  —  ever  to  fatten  his  sheep,  keep 

slender  his  song." 
So  —  since   poets  enough   and  to   spare 

hereafter  will  long, 
Varus,  to  sing  thy  praises,  and  war's  sad 

glories  to  chant  — 
I  with  a  meadow  reed  upon  sylvan  themes 

will  descant. 
Songs  unbidden  I  sing  not.     If  any  who 

love  me  there  be 
This  poor  verse    to   peruse,  each  tam- 
arisk. Varus,  of  thee. 
Every  forest  of  thee  will  re-echo,  and 

Phoebus  has  none 
Dearer  at   heart  than   a  page   with  the 

name  of  Varus  begun. 

Muses,  proceed  !     Young  Chromis  and 
young  Mnasyllus  had  found. 

Laid  at  his  length  in  a  cavern,  Silenus 
slumbering  sound ; 

Blown  his  veins  with  yesterday's  wine, 
as  is  ever  his  way. 

Garlands  tumbled  of  late  from  his  fore- 
head near  to  him  lay. 

And  by  its  battered  handle  a  pitcher  pon- 
derous hung. 

52 


On  him  they  fall  (for  the  old  man  often 

with  hope  of  a  song 
Both    had    deluded)    and    bind     him    in 

chains  from  his  garlands  made. 
As  they  are  standing  frightened,  arrives 

ere  long  to  their  aid 
^gle,  fairest  of  Naiads,  and,  while  he  is 

opening  his  eyes. 
Forehead  and  brow  with  the  juice  of  a 

blood-red  mulberry  dyes. 
He    at    the    pastime    laughing :  —  ''In 

chains  why  fetter  me  so  ? 
Boys,  unbind   me  ;   enough  your  power 

to  be  able  to  show. 
Take  this  song  ye  are  seeking ;  for  you 

this  song ;   for  the  maid 
Payment  in  other  fashion.'*     And  so  he 

began  as  they  prayed. 
Then    did    ye    see    to   the   measure  the 

Fauns  and  the  beasts  of  the  glen 
Tripping  in  time,  their  foreheads  the  stiff 

oaks  tossing  again. 
Not  so  charmed  Parnassus  when  Phoebus 

sings,  nor  rejoiced 
Rhodope*s  mountain  ranges  at  Orpheus, 

beautiful-voiced. 


53 


For  in  his  song  he  related  how  through 

void  ether  were  driven 
Seeds   primaeval  of  earth   and  of  sea  and 

the  airs  of  the  heaven, 
Eke  of  the  fire  elemental;    from  these 

first  principles  came 
Every  beginning  —  the  thin  round  crust 

of  the  firmament  frame  :  — 
Harder   and    harder  the  dry  land  grew, 

and  apart  in  the  seas 
Prisoned  the  spirit  of  Ocean  —  assumed 

life's  shapes  by  degrees. 
Soon  Earth  saw  with  wonder  a  young 

sun  shine  in  the  sky, 
Farther  the  rain  came  falling,  as  clouds 

were  lifted  on  high. 
Then  was  the  time  when  the  first  woods 

rose,  and  the  animals  few 
Wandered  over  the  hills  that  as  yet  no 

creature  knew. 

Next  of  the  stones  of  Pyrrha,  of  Saturn's 

kingdom  he  told. 
Eagles  of  Caucasus  hoar,  and  the  theft 

of  Prometheus  bold  : 
Sang  of  the  spring  where  Hylas  was  lost, 

how  the  mariner  men 
54 


Shouted  for  Hylas,  and  every  shore  rang 

Hylas  again ; 
Then  of  the  snow-white  bull,  and  the 

sad  Pasiphae's  teen, 
Happy  in  this  sad  world  if  a  horned  one 

never  had  been. 
Maiden  forlorn  !  what  madness  is  thine  ! 

Like  heifers  that  low. 
Over    the    meadows    the    daughters   of 

Proetus  roamed  in  their  woe ; 
None  was  dishonoured  ever  by  frenzied 

passion  as  thou ; 
Often  as  each  would    shrink  from    the 

fancied  fear  of  the  plough, 
Feel  for  a  budding  horn  on  her  smooth 

and  womanly  brow. 
Maiden  forlorn,  thou  rangest  the  moun- 
tain slopes  in  the  quest ! 
He,  with  his  snow-white  side  upon  soft- 
est hyacinths  pressed. 
Under  a  holm-oak  dark  chews    grasses 

bright,  or  is  gone 
Seeking    another    bride    in    the    herds. 

Close  speedily,  maids. 
Maids  of  the  Dirce  fountain,  the  forest 

covers  and  glades, 


55 


So  that  our  eyes  may  haply  behold,  ere 
evening  fades, 

Track  of  the  truant  bull.  And  per- 
chance this  wandering  one, 

Tempted  by  some  green  meadow,  or 
fain  with  the  others  to  roam. 

May  to  Gortyna's  stalls  by  the  heifers 
be  piloted  home. 

Next,  how  a  Hesperid  apple  the  maiden 

charmed,  was  his  strain  :  — 
Moss  of  the  bitter  bark  round  Phaeton's 

sisters  again 
Grew  in  his  song,  and  to  alders  immense 

they  rose  on  the  plain ;  — 
Then,  how  as  Gallus  wandered  beside 

Permessian  rills. 
One  of  the  Nine  had  led  him  to  sweet 

Aonia's  hills ; 
How  all  Phoebus's  choir  uprose  to  salute 

him,  and  how  — 
Flowerets    and    bitter    parsley  adorning 

his  heavenly  brow  — 
These    words   Linus    had    spoken,    the 

shepherd  and  poet  divine  : 
"  Take  these  reeds  of  the  meadow,  the 

Muses  send  thee  for  thine, 
S6 


Once  on  the  singer  of  Ascra  bestowed ; 

wherewith  as  he  blew 
Down  from    the    mountains    often    the 

stubborn  ashes  he  drew. 
With   them   sweetly    recount    how   the 

Grynian  wood  was  begun, 
Till  among  all    his    forests    Apollo    be 

prouder  of  none." 

Need  I  relate  how  of  Scylla,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Nisus,  he  told, 
Who  —  with  her  white  waist  girdled  by 

howling  monsters  —  of  old 
Harried,  chroniclers  tell  us,  the  Ithacan 

vessels,  and  gave 
Trembling    crews    to    be    rent    of  her 

hounds  in  swirl  of  the  wave  ? 
Or  how  he  sang  of  the  change  on  the 

body  of  Tereus  wrought. 
What  was  the  feast  Philomela  prepared, 

what  dainties  she  brought. 
How,  swift-winged,  for  the  desert  she 

made,    yet  first    had    been    fain  — 
Sad    one  —  over    her    palace    to    flutter 

again  and  again  ? 
All  of  the  songs,  that  of  old  from  Apollo 

the  listening  burn, 

57 


Blest  Eurotas,  heard  and  had  bidden  his 
bay  trees  learn, 

There  did  he  sing.  To  the  stars  the  re- 
echoing valleys  in  turn 

Told  it ;  till  Hesper  signalled  to  fold 
and  to  number  the  sheep, 

Rising  with  light  unwelcome  above  the 
Olympian  steep. 


58 


ECLOGUE   VII 

MELIBCEUS 

MELIBCEUS.       CORYDON.       THYRSIS 

Melibceus 

Under  the  whispering  boughs  of  a  holm- 
oak  Daphnis  had  lain, 

Thyrsis  and  Corydon  met,  for  it  so  had 
chanced,  on  the  plain. 

One  with  his  goats  in  milk,  and  the  one 
with  sheep  in  his  care, 

59 


Both  in  the  blossom  of  manhood  bright  — 

an  Arcadian  pair  — 
Equal  in  song,  and  ready  for  strain  and 

for  answering  strain. 
I,  while  fencing  the  myrtles  young  from 

the  alpine  cold, 
Miss  our  sultan  goat,  who  has  towards 

them  strayed  ;  and  behold 
Daphnis    before    me    yonder.     In    turn 

when  he  sees  me  again  : 
"  Hasten,"    he   cries,    "  Meliboeus,    the 

goat  and  the  kids  are  to  hand ; 
Rest  with  us  here  in  the  shadow,  if  thou 

canst  leisure  command. 
Hither    will    come    thy    kine    unsought 

through  the  meadows  to  drink ; 
Here  sweet  Mincius  fringes  with  young 

spring  rushes  a  brink 
Grassy  and   green ;   and  from  Jupiter's 

oak  bees  cluster  and  hum." 
Had  I  a  choice  ?     Nor  Phyllis  nor  my 

Alcippe  had  come 
Homeward   to  drive  to  the  folding  the 

motherless  lambkins  yet; 
While   *twas  a  battle  of  giants  —  with 

Thyrsis,  Corydon  met  — 


60 


Thus  my  business  to  their  sweet   sport 

gave  finally  way, 
So    in    alternate    changes    began    their 

musical  play. 
As  was    the  Muses'   pleasure,   in    turn 

their  melodies  rang  — 
First   came  Corydon  singing,  and  after 

him  Thyrsis  sang. 

Corydon 

Nymphs    of    Libethra,  beloved    of   my 

heart,  vouchsafe  me  a  strain 
Sweet    as   ye   grant   my   Codrus ;  —  his 

songs  are  next  the  divine 
Lays  of  Apollo ;  —  or  if  such  grace  all 

cannot  attain. 
Here  my  pipe  with  her  music  shall  hang 

on  your  holiest  pine. 

Thyrsis 

Fair  Arcadian  shepherds,  a  poet  is  born 

in  the  dale ; 
Crown  him  with  ivy,  till  envy  the  bosom 

of  Codrus  has  wrung. 


6i 


If  overmuch  he  applaud  me,  my  forehead 

with  foxglove  veil, 
Lest  your  bard  of  the  future  be  hurt  by 

an  enemy's  tongue. 

Corydon 

Delia,  this  boar's  head  with  its  bristles, 

and  antlers  that  graced 
Whilom   a  veteran    stag,  young  Micon 

bestows  upon  thee. 
If  still  fortune  attend  him,  aloft  thyself 

shall  be  placed. 
Hewn   from    the  marble,  and   buskined 

with  purple  as  high  as  the  knee. 

Thyrsis 

One    milk    flagon,   Priapus,  is  all  each 

year,  with  a  cake. 
Thou  canst  look  for  :  a  poor  man's  croft 

thou  boldest  in  keep. 
Marble  to-day  we  have  made  thee;    of 

gold  hereafter  will  make. 
If  our  ewes  that  are  yeaning  replenish 

the  tale  of  the  sheep. 


62 


Corydi 


on 


Child  of  the  sea,  Galatea,  than  thyme 

Hyblaean  to  me 
Sweeter,    than    swan    more    fair,    more 

lovely  than  ivies  white. 
Soon  as  the  pastured  oxen  are  homeward 

gone  from  the  lea. 
Come  —  for  thy  shepherd  lover  if  aught 

thou  carest  —  to-night. 

Thyrsis 

Let  me  to  thee  more  bitter  than  Sardo's 

grasses  appear. 
Rougher  than  bur,  more  cheap  than  the 

seaweed  flung  on  the  shore. 
If  I  find  not  to-day  more  long  than   a 

lingering  year ! 
Homeward,  ye  well-fed  oxen,  for  shame's 

sake,  tarry  no  more  1 

Corydon 

Fountains    bordered    with    mosses,    and 
grass  more  soft  than  repose. 


63 


Arbutus  green,  whose  flickering  shade 
roofs  both  from  the  day, 

Shelter  the  cattle  from  noontide  heat ! 
Soon  summer  that  glows 

Comes,  and  the  swelling  buds  on  the  vine 
already  are  gay. 

Thyrsis 

Here  is  a  hearth,  rich  torches  that  drip, 

here  firelight  flares 
Cheerily ;  blackened  the  door  with  the 

soot  that  has  clung  to  its  planks  j 
Here  as  little  we  care  for  the  north  winds 

icy,  as  cares 
Wolf  for  the  number  of  sheep  or  the 

river  in  flood  for  the  banks. 


Corydon 

Here  stand  junipers  tall,  and  the  chest- 
nuts prickly  in  row ; 

Fruits  lie  strewn  and  ungathered  beneath 
each  bountiful  tree ; 

Now  all  Nature  is  smiling ;  but  if  from 
the  mountain  should  go 


64 


Lovely  Alexis,  the  rivers  themselves  will 
waterless  be. 


Thyrsis 

Parched  is  the  meadow ;  the  grass  in  the 

sick  air  withers  of  thirst ; 
Father  Bacchus  the  shade  of  his  vines  to 

the  mountain  denies. 
When  my  Phyllis  approaches,  the  woods 

into  blossom  will  burst. 
And  in  a  gracious  torrent  to  earth  come 

raining  the  skies. 


Corydon 

Poplars  are  dear  to  Alcides ;  the  vine  to 

lacchus  the  bright. 
Myrtle  to  beautiful  Venus,  to  Phoebus 

his  favourite  bay, 
Phyllis  delights  in  the  hazels,  and  while 

they  are  still  her  delight. 
Neither  shall  myrtle  be  fairer  nor  bays 

of  Phoebus  than  they. 


6s 


Thyrsis 

Ash  is  the  loveliest  tree  in  the  forest,  in 

gardens  the  pine, 
Poplar  is  queen  by  the  river,  the  fir  upon 

mountains  supreme ; 
Fair  Lycidas,  come  only  as  guest  more 

often  of  mine, 
Poor  in  the  forest  the  ash  and  the  pine 

in  the  garden  will  seem. 

Melibceus 

Thus  much  well  I  remember,  and  idle 

were  Thyrsis*s  pains. 
Since  that  day  on   the  mountain  alone 

our  Corydon  reigns. 


66 


ECLOGUE   VIIL 

PHARMACEUTRIA 

DAMON.       ALPHESIBCEUS 

Songs  of  the  shepherds  Damon  and  Al- 

phesiboeus,  my  theme : 
Harkening  to  whom  with  rapture  as  each 

in  rivalry  sung, 
Heifers  forgot  their  pasture,  upon  whose 

melodies  hung 
Lynxes  smitten  with  wonder,  and  every 

listening  stream 

67 


Loitered   with  altered  current  along  its 

watery  way ; 
Damon   and  Alphesiboeus   shall  be  our 

burden  to-day. 

Sailing  already  abreast  of  the  great  Tima- 

vus's  hill, 
Whether  I  find  thee,  or  coasting  around 

Illyria  still. 
Comes  not  the  bright  day  ever  when  this 

poor  tongue  shall  be  free 
Thy  fair  deeds   to   proclaim  ?     Shall   I 

ne'er  at  liberty  be 
Proudly  to  waft  thy  verse  o'er  earth  and 

her  every  clime, 
Only  of  Athens  worthy,  and   buskined 

tragedy's  prime  ? 
Thou  my  Muse's    beginning,  her  song 

shall  finish  with  thee. 
Take  these  strains  at  thy  bidding  essayed, 

and  grant  me  to  lay 
Round  thy  brow  these  ivies  to  twine  with 

the  conqueror's  bay. 

Hardly  as  yet   from  the   skies  had  the 
night's  chill  shadow  dispersed, 


68 


Dew  lay  sweet  on  the  spring-tide  grass 

for  the  cattle  athirst ; 
Propped    on   an    olive    stafF   thus    sang 

young  Damon,  the  first : 

{Damon  sings) 

Rise,  fair  star  of  the  morning,  and  herald 

the  genial  day. 
I,  whom  a  passion  for  Nysa  the  false  has 

served  to  betray, 
Here  will  lament ;  and  to  gods  —  whose 

presence  attested  in  vain 
Naught  has  availed  me  —  in  death's  last 

hour  once  more  will  complain. 
Begin,  my  flute  of  the  mountains,  with 

me  my  Maenalus  strain. 

Maenalus  ever  has  forests  that  sing  to 

him ;  ever  a  sigh 
Speaks  in  his  pines;  to  the  loves  of  the 

shepherds  he  listens  for  aye ; 
Hears  Pan  piping,  who  brooked  not  that 

reeds  should  idle  remain. 
Begin,  my  flute  of  the  mountains,  with 

me  my  Maenalus  strain. 


69 


Nysa  with  Mopsus  weds  ;  what  next  is 

a  lover  to  see  ? 
Soon  will  the  griffin  be  matched  with  the 

mare,  and  in  summers  to  be 
Timid    fawns    with    the    hounds    come 

down  to  the  pools  on  the  plain. 
Begin,  my  flute  of  the  mountains,  with 

me  my  Maenalus  strain. 

Hew  fresh  torches  the  bridal  to  grace ; 

thy  bride  is  in  sight, 
Mopsus  —  the    bridegroom    thou  —  go 

scatter  the  nuts  to  her  train ! 
Hesper    from    CEta's    summit  for   thee 

sails  into  the  night. 
Begin,  my  flute  of  the  mountains,  with 

me  my  Maenalus  strain. 

Worthy  the  lord  they  give  thee  to  wed, 

who  scornest  the  world, 
Holdest  the    pipe  of  the  shepherd  and 

these  poor  goats  in  disdain, 
Thinkest    light    of  a    brow    untrimmed 

and  a  beard  uncurled. 
Deeming  the  gods  untroubled  by  mortal 

passion  and  pain ! 


70 


Begin,  my  flute  of  the  mountains,  with 
me  my  Maenalus  strain. 

'T  was  in  our  crofts  I  saw  thee,  a  girl 

thy  mother  beside. 
Plucking  the   apples    dewy,  myself  thy 

pilot  and  guide ; 
Years  I  had  finished  eleven,  the  twelfth 

was  beginning  to  reign ; 
Scarce  was  I  able    to    reach    from    the 

ground  to  the  branches  that  snapt. 
Ah,  when  I  saw !    how  I  perished !  to 

fatal  folly  was  rapt ! 
Begin,  my  flute  of  the  mountains,  with 

me  my  Maenalus  strain. 

Now    have    I    learned    what    love    is. 

Among  rocks  savage  and  wild 
Tmaros    or    Rhodope  bare    him  or    far 

Garamantes  for  child, — 
Mortal  his   lineage    is  not,  nor   human 

blood  in  his  veins.  ^ 

Begin,  my  flute  of  the  mountains,  with 

me  my  Masnalus  strains. 

Fell  love  taught  one  mother  her  sinful 
hands  to  imbrue 

71 


Once  in   her  children's  blood,  and  the 

mother  was  heartless  too. 
Heartless  the  mother   most  ?     Or   was 

love  more  cruel  and  fell  ? 
Cruel  was  love;  thou  also   the   mother 

heartless  as  well. 
Begin,  my  flute  of  the  mountains,  with 

me  my  Maenalus  strain. 

Now  let  the  wolf  turn  tail  to  the  sheep ; 

oaks  stubborn  have  power 
Apples  golden  to  bear,  on  the  alder  the 

daffodil  flower ! 
Droppings  of  amber  rich  from  the  bark 

of  the  tamarisk  rain  ; 
Screech-owls  vie  with  the  swan,  and  to 

Orpheus  Tityrus  change ; 
Orpheus  play  for  the  woods,  as  Arion 

with  dolphins  range. 
Begin,  my  flute  of  the  mountains,  with 

me  my  Maenalus  strain. 

Nay,  let  the  sea  drown  all.     Farewell  to 

the  woods.     I  will  leap 
Here  from  this  mountain  crest  that  for 

ever  watches  the  deep  ; 


72 


This  death-song  of   the    dying  for  last 

sad  gift  let  her  keep. 
Cease,  my  flute,  it  is  ended,  the  Maena- 

lus  mountain  refrain. 

Thus    sang  Damon.     The    answer   of 

Alphesiboeus  again. 
Muses,  recount  !     Frail   mortals   to   all 

things  cannot  attain. 

(Alphesiboeus  sings) 

Fetch  me  the  water ;  with  soft  wreaths 
circle  the  altar  divine ; 

Burn  to  the  gods  rich  boughs,  heap 
frankincense  on  the  fire ; 

So  to  the  passionless  heart  of  this  ice- 
cold  lover  of  mine 

I  may  reach  with  my  magic ;  it  is  but  a 
chant  we  require. 

Homeward  bring  from  the  city,  my 
chants,  bring  Daphnis  again. 

Chants  from  her  heavenly  station  can 
draw  down  even  the  moon  ! 

Circe    once   with  a   chant    transformed 
Ulysses'  train. 
73 


Cold  snakes  split  in  the  meadows  asun- 
der with  chant  and  with  tune ! 

Homeward  bring  from  the  city,  my 
chants,  bring  Daphnis  again. 

These  three  threads,  each  tinted  a  sep- 
arate colour,  I  twine 

Round  thee  first  in  a  circle ;  and  thrice 
these  altars  around 

Carry  the  image  —  a  number  uneven  is 
dear  to  the  shrine ;  — 

In  three  knots,  Amaryllis,  let  each  of  the 
colours  be  wound. 

Wind  them,  prithee,  and  cry,  "  I  am 
weaving  Venus's  chain." 

Homeward  bring  from  the  city,  my 
chants,  bring  Daphnis  again. 

As  in  a  fire  that  is  one  and  the  same, 

grows  harder  the  clay. 
Softer  the  wax,  may  Daphnis  be  wrought 

by  passion  to-day. 
Crumble  the  cake,  let  the  boughs  of  the 

bay-tree  crackle  and  blaze. 
Daphnis  has  fired  me  with  passion,  I  light 

over  Daphnis  the  bays. 


74 


Homeward    bring    from    the    city,    my 
chants,  bring  Daphnis  again. 

May  such  love  upon  Daphnis  be  laid  as 

the  heifer's,  who  hies 
Wearily  after  her  mate  thro'  the  forest 

and  hills  in  the  quest. 
Down  by  the  river  bank  upon  greenest 

sedges  she  lies, 
Lost    in    her    grief,  nor    remembers    at 

nightfall  late  to  arise. 
Such  may  his  love  be,  nor  I  care  ever  to 

heal  his  unrest. 
Homeward    bring    from    the    city,    my 

chants,  bring  Daphnis  again. 

These  worn  garments  he  left  me,  my 

faithless  love,  as  he  went ; 
Pledges  dear  of  himself  j  —  by  the  door 

let  them  buried  remain. 
Hold  them,  O  Earth  !  they  are  pledges, 

and  owe  me  the  Daphnis  I  lent. 
Homeward    bring    from    the    city,    my 

chants,  bring  Daphnis  again. 

These  green  herbs,  these  poisons  from 
Pontus  gathered  in  bloom, 

75 


Moeris    gave  me;    in  plenty  they  grow 

on  the  Pontus  plain ; 
Often  the  form  of  a  wolf  with  these  I 

have  seen  him  assume, 
And  in  the  forests  plunge,  or  the  ghosts 

call  forth  from  the  tomb, 
Often    remove    to    an    alien    field    rich 

harvests  of  grain. 
Homeward    bring    from    the    city,    my 

chants,  bring  Daphnis  again. 

Carry  the  ashes  without,  Amaryllis,  and 

into  the  brook 
Over    thy    shoulders    fling    them,    nor 

venture  behind  thee  to  look ! 
These  are  for  Daphnis ;  he  recks  nor  of 

gods  nor  magical  strain. 
Homeward    bring    from    the    city,    my 

chants,  bring  Daphnis  again. 

Look!  As  I  linger  to  take  it,  the 
cinder  itself  from  the  grate 

Catches  the  altar  with  flickering  flames. 
Good  luck  on  us  wait ! 

Ay,  there  is  something  surely,  and 
Hylax  barks  at  the  gate  ! 


16 


Ought  I  to  hope  ?  Or  do  lovers  their 
own  dreams  fashion  in  vain  ? 

Cease,  my  chants.  From  the  city  he 
comes,  my  Daphnis,  again. 


71 


^^^^^^^!^9lm 

r^ 

WMmm 

ECLOGUE 

IX. 

MCERIS 

LYCIDAS.       MCERIS 

Lycidas 

Whither,  Moeris,  away  ? 
as  travels  the  road  ? 

—  to 

the  city, 

Moeris 

Friend,  we  have  lived  to  a  day 
thought  but  little  to  see, 
78 

,  that  we 

Lived   for  an   alien  lord  to  invade  our 

little  abode, 
Crying  "  Begone  old   sons   of  the   soil, 

these  fields  are  for  me !  " 
Broken   in  spirit  and  sad,  since   chance 

makes  havoc  of  all. 
These  young  kids  for  a  tribute  we  take 

him  —  and  curses  withal ! 


Lycidas 

Surely    the    tale    had    reached    us,    that 

where  yon  hills  from  the  plain 
Draw  to  the  sky,  and  in  gentle  slopes 

break  downwards  again. 
Far  as  the  pool,  and  the  beech-trees  old 

whose  crests  are  decayed. 
All  to  Menalcas  was  left  in  return  for 

the  verses  he  made. 

Mceris 

So  ye  were  told ;  so  rumour  was  rife ; 

yet  verses  of  ours 
Are  of  as  little  avail,  old  friend,  when 

the  battle  bolt  lowers. 


79 


As  the  Chaonian  doves  when  an  eagle 

swoops  to  the  stroke. 
Had  not  a  raven,  perched  on  the  left, 

from  a  hole  in  her  oak 
Warned  me  as  best  I  might  to  prevent 

the  renewal  of  strife, 
Neither  had  I  —  thy  Moeris  —  escaped, 

nor  Menalcas,  with  life. 

Lycidas 

Breathes  there,  alas  !    so  guilty  a  soul  ? 

And  were  we  to  be 
Robbed   so    nearly,   Menalcas,   of  life's 

sweet  solace  in  thee  ? 
Who  was  to  chant  us  stories  of  Nymph- 
land,  blossom  and  flower 
Strew  on  the  earth,  or  the  fountains  with 

boscage  and  shade  to  embower  ? 
Who  was  to  sing  us  the  song  that  I  stole 

from  thy  lips  as  I  lay, 
When  thou  wentest  a-courting  my  love, 

Amaryllis  the  gay  ? 
"  Tityrus,  while  I  am  gone  —  and  it  is 

but  a  step  to  return  — 
Drive  my  she-goats  hence  to  the  meadow, 

and  thence  to  the  burn 
80 


When  they  are  fed  ;  and  the  while,  have, 

Tityrus,  ever  a  care 
How  thou  come  to  the  he-goat's  horns 

—  he  is  wicked  —  beware  !  " 

Mceris 

Ay,  or  the  still  unfinished  verse  that  to 

Varus  he  gave : 
"  Thy  great  name,  O  Varus  —  do  thou 

our  Mantua  save  — 
Mantua,    too   near   neighbour,  alas,   of 

Cremona  the  lost, — 
Swans  in  a  deathless  music  shall  waft  to 

the  heavenly  host." 

Lycidas 

So   past    Corsica's    yews    thy  bees    un- 

lingering  sail ; 
Fed  upon  cytisus  flowers  thy  kine  grow 

rich  for  the  pail. 
As   thy    song  thou   afford    us.     For   I, 

through  grace  of  the  Nine, 
Poet  am  also,  and  singer  as  thou.     By 

swains  in  the  dale 


8i 


Bard  am  yclept  j  yet  little  I  trust  them. 

Nothing  of  mine 
Worthy  of  Varius  yet,  or  of  noble  Cinna 

I  deem ; 
Am  but  a  cackling  gander  among  sweet 

swans  of  the  stream. 


Maeris 

Yea,  O  friend,  I  endeavour  —  am  think- 
ing once  and  again  — 

How  to  recall  its  burden,  for  not  un- 
worthy the  strain. 

"  Come,  Galatea,  where  in  the  waves 
can  a  merriment  be  ? 

Here  are  the  golden  blooms  of  spring  j 
earth  bountiful,  see. 

Here  by  the  river  scatters  her  bright- 
hued  flowers  evermore. 

Over  the  cavern  hangs  one  poplar  of 
silvery  white. 

Lissom  vines  have  woven  a  roof  that 
shades  it  from  light ; 

Come !  Let  the  madcap  billows  in 
thunder  break  on  the  shore." 


82 


Lycidas 

What  was  the  song  that  I  heard  thee  on 

one  clear  starlight  night 
Singing  ?     The  air  I  recall,  if  the  words 

I  remembered  aright. 

Mceris 

"  Why  still  watching  the  rise  of  the  con- 
stellations of  old, 

Daphnis,  with  eyes  uplifted  ?  The  star 
of  Caesar  —  behold  — 

Star  of  the  Venus-born,  has  begun  its 
march  on  the  sky ! 

Star  whose  dawn  should  gladden  the 
fields  with  harvest,  and  dye 

Grapes  on  the  sunlit  slopes  of  the  hill  to 
a  purple  and  gold. 

Graft  thy  pears,  O  Daphnis,  the  fruit 
thy  sons  shall  enjoy." 

Age  from  us  all  things  takes,  e'en  mem- 
ory ;  oft  as  a  boy 

Can  I  remember  singing  the  summer 
sun  to  its  rest ; 

Now  forgotten  are  all  my  verses.  Gone 
at  the  last 

83 


Moeris's  voice ;  their  glamour  the  wolves 

on  Moeris  have  cast ; 
Often    enough  will    Menalcas   himself 

fulfil  thy  request. 

Lycidas 

All  thy  many  excuses  increase  my  pas- 
sion the  more. 

Come,  for  the  waters  silent  and  listen- 
ing lie.     On  the  shore 

See,  each  breath  of  the  murmuring  wind 
has  sunk  to  repose. 

Here  we  are  just  half-way  on  the  journey. 
Visible  grows 

Distant  Bianor's  tomb.  So  here,  where 
the  labourer  goes 

Lopping  the  leafage  thick,  let  us  waken, 
Moeris,  the  strain. 

Lay  on  the  ground  thy  kids,  and  the  city 
betimes  we  shall  gain. 

Or,  if  we  fear  lest  night  overtake  us  with 
gathering  rain. 

On  let  us  journey  singing  —  a  song 
makes  lighter  the  road  — 

I,  to  assist  in  the  music,  will  ease  thy 
back  of  its  load. 

84 


Mceris 

Ask  me  no  more ;  let  us  hasten  to  finish 

the  tasks  that  are  near ; 
Better  will  be  our  singing,  when  once 

our  Master  is  here. 


85 


ECLOGUE   X. 
GALLUS 

One  last  labour  in  song,  of  thy  grace, 

Arethusa,  concede. 
Strains,  though    few,  for  my  Gallus  — 

that  even  Lycoris  may  read  — 
Yet   must    I    sing,   ere    parting.     Who 

gives  not  Gallus  a  song  ? 
So,  when  beneath  the  Sicilian  seas  thou 

glidest  along, 

86 


Doris  from  thine  keep  ever  her  brackish 
waters  apart. 

Come;  let  us  tell  of  the  passion  con- 
suming Callus's  heart, 

While  each  flat-nosed  goat  on  the  young 
bush  browses  at  call. 

No  deaf  ears  shall  we  sing  to;  the 
woods  make  answer  to  all. 

Nymphs  of  the  stream,  what  glades,  what 
forest  detained  ye  the  day 

When  with  a  love  unrequited  my  Cal- 
lus wasted  away  ? 

Never  a  height  of  Parnassus,  of  Pindus 
never  a  mount 

Stayed  ye,  nor  yet  Aganippe,  the  fair 
Aonian  fount. 

Even  the  bay-trees  wept  him,  the  tama- 
risk gave  him  a  tear ; 

Pine-clad  Maenalus  mourned  as  beneath 
his  precipice  drear 

Lonely  he  lay;  and  the  rocks  of  the 
frosty  Lycaeus  repined. 

All  of  his  sheep  stand  round  him  ;  —  they 
feel  no  shame  of  mankind  ; 

Nor  thou,  heavenliest  singer,  do  thou  feel 
shame  of  thy  sheep ; 

87 


Flocks  himself  by  the  river  the  lovely 
Adonis  did  keep. 

Thither    the    shepherds   came,  and    the 

swineherds  tardy  at  last ; 
Thither    Menalcas,  drenched    from    his 

winter  storing  of  mast. 
"  Whence  this  passion  ?  "  they  ask  him. 

Apollo  came,  the  divine  : 
"  Gallus,"    he    cries,    "  what    madness  ! 

The  lovely  Lycoris  of  thine 
Follows    another    love    through    a    wild 

camp-life  and  the  snows." 
Thither  arrived  Silvanus,  his  brows  with 

greenery  fine. 
Nodding  his  giant  lilies  and  fennel  flowers 

as  he  goes. 

Pan  of  Arcadia  next  —  ourselves  we 
beheld  him  —  he  came  — 

Blood-red  berries  of  elder,  and  all  ver- 
milion flame, — 

"  Grieving  forever  !  "  he  saith.  "  Wild 
grief  Love  little  esteems ; 

Neither  is  fierce  Love  sated  with  tears, 
nor  the  meadow  with  streams. 


88 


Nor  with  the  cytisus  blossom  the  bee, 
nor  the  goat  with  the  leaf." 

Sadly  he  answers  :  "  At  least  some  day 

ye  will  sing  of  my  grief 
Unto   your    hills,    Arcadians  ;  —  alone, 

Arcadians,  chief 
Masters  of  song.     How  gently,  methinks, 

my  bones  would  repose 
Should   your    pipes   hereafter  relate   my 

love  and  its  woes ! 
Would   of  a  truth  I   among  you  were 

one !  your  sheep  were  it  mine 
Daily  to  tend,  or  be  dresser  in  vintage- 
time  of  the  vine  ! 
Then  at  the  least  whether  Phyllis  it  were, 

or  Amyntas,  my  spark. 
Or  some  other,  that  kindled  —  and  what 

if  Amyntas  be  dark. 
Dark  is  the  violet's  beauty,  and  dark  is 

the  hyacinth's  pride  — 
Here    they    would     lie    among    willows 

beneath  long  vines  at  my  side ; 
Phyllis  gather  me  flowers,  and  Amyntas 

sing  me  his  lay. 
Here  are  the  cold,  clear  fountains,  the 

waving  meadow  is  gay ; 

89 


Here  are  the  forest  shadows  ;  and  here 

life  ever  should  glide, 
Glide  of  itself,  O  Lycoris,  beside  thee 

gently  away. 

"Now  by  insensate   passion  of  savage 

war  I  am  here 
Stayed  —  my   face    to   the   foeman,  en- 
compassed around  by  the  spear. 
Thou  —  yet  far  be  the  fancy  —  remote 

from  the  land  that  is  thine, 
Lookest  on  Alpine  snows  —  cold  heart 

—  and  the  winters  of  Rhine, 
Lonely,  without  my  love.     May  frosts 

thy  feebleness  spare  ! 
Ah,  may  the    splinters  icy  thy  delicate 

feet  forbear ! 
I  will  away ;  and  the  verses  I  wrought 

in  the  Chalcis  mould 
Set  to  the  pipe  and  the  music  of  Sicily's 

shepherd  of  old. 
Rather   had    I    in    the   forest,  the  wild 

beasts'  caverns  among, 
Bear  what  awaits  me,  carving  my  love 

on  the  trees  that  are  young. 
So,  as  the  trees  grow  upward,  my  love 

shall  grow  with  them  too. 
90 


There  meanwhile  with  the  nymphs  I  will 

roam  great  Maenalus  through 
Hunting  the  savage  boar.     No  frosts  of 

the  winter  shall  make 
Me   and   my  hounds  cease  ranging  the 

high  Parthenian  brake. 
Over  the  rocks,  methinks,  and  the  ring- 
ing covers  I  go. 
Sweeping   already    in    chase;    with  joy 

from  the  Parthian  bow 
Winging  the  Cretan  arrow;  as  though 

this  medicine  healed 
Love    like    mine !    or    the  Love-god  to 

human  sorrow  would  yield ! 
Vain   is    the    dream  —  Hamadryads    no 

more,  nor  pastoral  strain 
Bring  me  delight.     Farewell,  farewell  to 

the  forests  again ! 
Love  is  a  god  no  toils  can  appease,  no 

misery  melt. 
No,  not  in  iciest  frosts  by  the  Hebrus*s 

waves  if  we  dwelt. 
Nor  if  Sithonian  snows  we  endured,  and 

winters  of  sleet ; 
Or,  when  the  dying  bark  on  the  tall  elm 

withered  with  heat. 


91 


Sheep  for  an  ^thiop  master  beneath 
fierce  Cancer  we  drove. — 

All  things  else  Love  conquers;  let  us 
too  yield  unto  Love." 

Muses,  enough  ye  will  deem  your  poet 

already  has  sung, 
Sitting  and  weaving  a  basket  of  slender 

mallows  and  young. 
Ye  of  your  grace  will  make  it  of  worth 

in  Gallus's  eyes  — 
Gallus,  for  whom  my  love  grows  hour 

by  hour,  as  arise 
Hourly  the  alders  green  in  the  new-born 

spring  to  the  skies. 
Let  us  be  going ;  the  shade  for  a  singer 

is  deadly  and  chill ; 
Chill  is  the  juniper's  shade  ;  for  the  corn 

all  shade  is  an  ill. 
Homeward,  Hesperus  comes  —  ye  have 

fed,  my  goats,  to  your  fill. 


92 


iENEAS'   VISIT   TO 
AVERNUS 

{From  the  ^neid) 


iENEAS'    VISIT   TO 
AVERNUS 

THE  ARRIVAL  IN   ITALY 

Weeping   he   spake,  then  gave  to  his 

flying  vessels  the  rein, 
Gliding  at  last  on  the  wind  to  Euboean 

Cumae*s  plain. 
Seaward  the  bows  are  pointed,  an  anchor's 

hook  to  the  land 

95 


Fastens  the  ships,  and  the  sterns  in  a  long 

line  border  the  strand. 
Troy's  young  warriors  leap  with  exultant 

hearts  from  the  bark 
Forth  upon  Italy's  soil.     Some  look  for 

the  fiery  spark 
Hid  in  the  secret  veins  of  the  flint ;  some 

scour  the  profound 
Forest,  and  wild  beasts'  cover,  and  show 

where  waters  abound. 
While  the  devout  JEnczs  a  temple  seeks 

on  the  height, 
Phoebus's  mountain  throne,  and  a  cavern 

vast  as  the  night. 
Where  in  mysterious  darkness  the  terrible 

Sibyl  lies. 
Maiden  upon  whose  spirit  the  Delian  seer 

of  the  skies 
Breathes  his  immortal  thought,  and  the 

knowledge  of  doom  untold. 
Soon  they  arrive  at   Diana's  grove  and 

her  palace  of  gold. 

Flying,  as  legends  tell,  from  the  thraldom 

of  Minos  the  king, 
Daedalus,  trusting  the  heavens,  set  forth 

on  adventurous  wing, 

96 


Sailed  for  the  ice-bound  north  by  a  way 

unimagined  and  strange ; 
Airily  poising  at  last  upon  this  Chalcidian 

range, 
Here  first  touching  the  land,  to  Apollo 

hallowed  his  light 
Oarage  of  wings ;  and  a  temple  colossal 

built  on  the  site. 
Graved    on   the  doors   is  the  death  of 

Androgeos ;  yonder  in  turn 
Attica's    land,  condemned  each  year  in 

atonement  to  yield 
Seven  of  her  children ;  the  lots  are  drawn, 

still  standing  the  urn ; 
Rising   from  midmost  ocean,  to  match 

them,  Crete  is  revealed. 
Here  is  the  gloomy  romance  of  the  bull, 

Pasiphae's  blind 
Passion ;  and  twiformed  Minotaur,  two 

bodies  combined. 
Record  of  lawless  love ;  there,  marvellous 

labour,  were  shaped 
Palace  and  winding  mazes,  from  whence 

no  feet  had  escaped. 
Had  not  Daedalus  pitied  the  lorn  princess 

and  her  love. 


97 


And  of  himself  unentangled  the  woven 

trick  of  the  grove, 
Guiding  her  saviour's  steps  with  a  thread. 

Thee,  too,  he  had  wrought, 
Icarus,  into  the  picture,  had  grief  not 

baffled  the  thought. 
Twice  he  essayed  upon  gold  to  engrave 

thine  agony,  twice 
Faltered  the  hands  of  the  father,  and  fell. 

Each  noble  device 
Long  their  eyes  had  perused,  but  Achates 

now  is  in  sight ; 
With   him   the   priestess    comes,  dread 

servant  of  Phoebus  and  Night, 
Daughter  of  Glaucus  the  seer.     To  the 

Trojan  monarch  she  cries : 
"  *T  is  not  an  hour,  ^neas,  for  feasting 

yonder  thine  eyes. 
Better  to  slaughter  from  herds  unyoked 

seven  oxen  and  seven 
Ewes    of  the   yester   year,  as  a  choice 

oblation  to  Heaven." 
Then,  as  the  ministers  hasten  the  rites 

ordained  to  prepare. 
Into  the  depth  of  the  temple  she  bids 

Troy's  children  repair. 


98 


There  is  a  cavern  hewn  in  the  mountain's 

enormous  side, 
Reached  by  a  hundred  gates,  and  a  hun- 
dred passages  wide. 
Thence  roll  voices  a  hundred,  the  seer's 

revelations  divine. 
When  by  the  doors  they  stood :  "  'T  is 

the  hour  to  inquire  of  the  shrine," 
Cried  the  illumined  maiden  :  "  The  God  ! 

lo,  here  is  the  God !  " 
Even   as  she   spake,  while  still  on  the 

threshold  only  she  trod. 
Sudden    her    countenance    altered,    her 

cheek  grew  pale  as  in  death, 
Loose  and  disordered  her  fair  hair  flew, 

heart  panted  for  breath. 
Bosom  with  madness  heaved.    More  lofty 

than  woman's  her  frame. 
More    than    mortal    her    voice,   as  the 

presence  of  Deity  came 
Nearer  upon  her.     "  And  art  thou  slow 

to  petition  the  shrine, 
Troy's  iEneas  a  laggard  at  prayer  ?  — 

nought  else  will  incline 
This  charmed  temple,"  she  cries,  "  its 

colossal  doors  to  unclose." 


99 


Then  stands  silent.     The  veteran  bones 

of  the  Teucrians  froze, 
Chilled  with  terror,  and  prayer  from  the 

heart  of  the  monarch  arose  : 
"  Phoebus  !  compassionate  ever  to  Troy 

in  the  hour  of  her  woe. 
Who   against    haughty  Achilles  of   old 

didst  prosper  the  bow 
Bent  by  the  Dardan  Paris,  beneath  thine 

auspices  led 
Many  a  sea  I  have  travelled  around  great 

continents  spread. 
Far  as  Massylian  tribes  and  the  quick- 
sands lining  their  plain. 
Italy's    vanishing    regions,    behold,    thy 

people  attain ! 
Here  may  the  evil  fate  of  the  Trojans 

leave  us  at  last ! 
Spare,  for  *t  is  mercy's  hour,  this  remnant 

of  Pergama's  race, 
Gods  and  goddesses  all,  whose  jealous 

eyes  in  the  past 
Looked  upon  Ilion's  glories  !     From  thee 

I  implore  one  grace. 
Prophet  of   Heaven,    dark   seer  of  the 

future.     Grant  us  the  debt, 

100 


Long  by  the  destinies  owed  us  —  a  king- 
dom promised  of  yore  — 

Foot  upon  Latium*s  borders  at  length 
may  Teucrians  set, 

Bearing  their  household  gods  by  the 
tempests  tossed  evermore ! 

I,  their  votary  grateful,  in  PhcEbus*  and 
Trivia's  praise 

Hewn  from  the  solid  marble  a  glorious 
fane  will  raise. 

Call  by  Apollo's  name  his  festival.  Also 
for  thee 

Shall  in  our  future  kingdom  a  shrine 
imperial  be. 

There  shall  thine  own  dark  sayings,  the 
mystic  fates  of  our  line. 

Gracious  seer,  be  installed,  and  a  priest- 
hood chosen  be  thine. 

Only  entrust  not  to  leaves  thy  prophecy, 
maiden  divine. 

Lest  in  disorder,  the  light  winds'  sport, 
they  be  driven  on  the  air; 

Chant  thyself  the  prediction."  His  lips 
here  ended  from  prayer. 

Still  untamed  of  Apollo,  to  stature  terrible 
grown, 

lOI 


Raves  the  prophetic  maid  in  her  cavern, 

fain  to  dethrone 
This  great  God  who  inspires  her  —  the 

more  with  bit  doth  he  school 
Fiery  mouth  and  rebellious  bosom  and 

mould  her  to  rule. 
Wide  on  a  sudden  the    hundred   enor- 
mous mouths  of  her  lair 
Fly,  of  themselves  unclosing,  and   an- 
swer floats  on  the  air : 
"  Thou  who  hast  ended  at  last  with  the 

dangers  dread  of  the  sea, 
Greater  on  land  still  wait  thee.     Lavin- 

ium's  kingdom  afar 
Teucria*s  children    shall  find  —  of  that 

ancient  terror  be  free  — 
Yet  shall  repent  to  have  found  it.     I  see 

grim  visions  of  war, 
Tiber  foaming  with  blood.     Once  more 

shall  a  Simois  flow, 
Xanthus  be  there  once  more,  and   the 

tents  of  a  Dorian  foe. 
Yonder  in  Latium  rises  a  second  Achilles, 

and  born. 
Even   as   the    first,  of  a  goddess;  and 

neither  at  night  nor  at  morn 

I02 


Ever  shall  Juno  leave  thee,  the  Trojans' 

enemy  sworn, 
While  thou  pleadest  for  succour,  besieg- 
ing in  misery  sore 
Each  far  people  and  city  around  Ausonia's 

shore ! 
So  shall  a  bride  from  the  stranger  again 

thy  nation  destroy, 
Once  more  foreign  espousals  a  great  woe 

bring  upon  Troy. 
Yield    not   thou    to    disasters,   confront 

them  boldly,  and  more 
Boldly  —  as  fortune  suffers  —  and  first 

from  a  town  of  the  Greek, 
Marvel  to  say,  shall  be  shown  thee  the 

way  salvation  to  seek." 

So  from  her  awful  shrine  the  Cumaean 

Sibyl  intones 
Fate's  revelation    dread,  till  the  cavern 

echoes  her  groans. 
Robing  her  truths  in  gloom.     So  shakes, 

as  she  fumes  in  unrest, 
Phoebus  his  bridle  reins,  while  plunging 

the  spur  in  her  breast. 
After  her  madness  ceased  and  her  lips  of 

frenzy  were  still, 
103 


Thus  ^neas  replied  :  "  No  vision,  lady, 

of  ill 
Comes    unimagined    now    to    the    exile 

here  at  thy  door ; 
Each  has  he  counted  and  traverst  already 

in  spirit  before. 
One  sole  grace  I  entreat  —  since  these 

be  the  gates,  it  is  said, 
Sacred  to  Death  and  the  twilight  lake  by 

the  Acheron  fed  — 
Leave  to  revisit  the  face  of  the  sire  I 

have  loved  so  well ; 
Teach  me  the  way  thyself,  and  unlock 

yon  portals  of  hell. 
This  was  the  sire  I  bore  on  my  shoulders 

forth  from  the  flame. 
Brought  thro'  a  thousand  arrows,  that  vext 

our  flight  as  we  came 
Safe  from  the  ranks  of  the  foemen.     He 

shared  my  journey  with  me ; 
Weak   as    he    was,    braved    ocean,   the 

threats  of  sky  and  of  sea ; 
More  than  the  common  strength  or  the 

common  fate  of  the  old. 
'T  is  at  his  bidding,  his  earnest  prayer 

long  since,  I  am  fain 

104 


Thus  in  petition  to  seek  thy  gate.     With 

compassion  behold 
Father  and  son,  blest  maid,  for  untold 

thy  power,  nor  in  vain 
Over  the  groves  of  Avernus  hath  Hecate 

set  thee  to  reign. 
Grace  was  to  Orpheus  granted,  his  bride 

from  the  shadows  to  bring. 
Strong  in  the  power  of  his  lyre  and. its 

sounding  Thracian  string. 
Still  in  his  turn  dies  Pollux,  a  brother's 

life  to  redeem. 
Travels  and  ever  retravels  the  journey. 

Why  of  the  great 
Theseus   tell    thee,  or    why  of  Alcides 

mighty  relate  ? 
My  race,  even    as  theirs,  is   descended 

from  Jove  the  supreme." 
So  evermore  he  repeated,  and  still  to  the 

altar  he  clung. 
She  in  reply  :  "  Great  Hero,  of  heaven's 

high  lineage  sprung. 
Son  of  Anchises  of  Troy,  the  descent  to 

Avernus  is  light; 
Death's    dark    gates    stand    open,    alike 

thro'  the  day  and  the  night. 

105 


But  to  retrace  thy  steps  and  emerge  to 

the  sunlight  above, 
This  is  the  toil  and  the  trouble.    A  few, 

whom  Jupiter's  love 
Favours,  or  whose  bright  valour  has  raised 

them  thence  to  the  skies, 
Born  of  the  gods,  have  succeeded.     On 

this  side  wilderness  lies. 
Black    Cocytus    around  it    his    twilight 

waters  entwines. 
Still,  if  such  thy  desire,  and  if  thus  thy 

spirit  inclines 
Twice  to  adventure   the    Stygian    lake, 

twice  look  on  the  dark 
Tartarus,  and  it  delights  thee  on  quest 

so  wild  to  embark. 
Learn  what  first  to  perform.     On  a  tree 

no  sun  that  receives 
Hides  one  branch  all  golden  —  its  yield- 
ing stem  and  its  leaves  — 
Sacred   esteemed  to    the    queen    of  the 

shadows.     Forests  of  night 
Cover  it,  sloping  valleys  enclose  it  around 

from  the  light. 
Subterranean   gloom    and    its    mysteries 

only  may  be 

io6 


Reacht  by  the   mortal  who  gathers  the 

golden  growth  of  the  tree. 
This  for  her  tribute  chosen  the  lovely 

Proserpina  needs 
Aye     to    be     brought    her.     The    one 

bough  broken,  another  succeeds, 
Also  of  gold,  and  the  spray  bears  leaf  of 

a  metal  as  bright. 
Deep  in  the  forest  explore,  and  if  once 

thou  find  it  aright. 
Pluck  it ;  the  branch  will  follow,  of  its 

own  grace  and  design. 
Should  thy  destiny  call  thee ;  or  else  no 

labour  of  thine 
Ever  will  move  it,  nor  ever  thy  hatchet 

conquer  its  might. 
Yea,  and  the  corpse  of  a  friend,  although 

thou  know'st  not,"  she  saith, 
"Lies  upon  shore  unburied,  and  taints 

thy  vessels  with  death. 
While  thou  tarriest  here  at  the  gate  thy 

future  to  know. 
Carry  him  home  to  his  rest,  in  the  grave 

his  body  bestow ; 
Death's  black  cattle  provide  for  the  altar ; 

give  to  the  shades 

107 


This  first  lustral  oblation,  and  so  on  the 
Stygian  glades. 

Even  on  realms  where  never  the  feet  of 
the  living  come. 

Thou  shalt  finally  look."  Then,  clos- 
ing her  lips,  she  was  dumb. 

Sadly,  with  downcast  eyes,  iEneas  turns 

to  depart. 
Leaving  the  cave;  on   the  issues  dark 

foretold  by  her  words 
Pondering  much  in  his  bosom.     Achates, 

trusty  of  heart. 
Paces  beside  him,  plunged  in  a  musing 

deep  as  his  lord's. 
Many  the  troubled  thoughts  that  in  rang- 
ing talk  they  pursue  — 
Who  is  the  dead  companion  the  priestess 

spake  of,  and  who 
Yonder  unburied  lies  ?     And  advancing 

thither,  they  find 
High  on  the  beach   Misenus,  to  death 

untimely  consigned, 
^olus-born    Misenus,   than    whom    no 

trumpeter  bright 
Blew  more  bravely  for  battle,  or  fired 

with  music  the  fight ; 
io8 


Comrade    of    Hector     great,    who    at 

Hector's  side  to  the  war 
Marched,  by  his  soldier's  spear  and  his 

trumpet  known  from  afar. 
After   triumphant    Achilles    his    master 

slew  with  the  sword, 
Troy's  ^neas   he   followed,   a   no   less 

glorious  lord. 
Now  while  over  the  deep  he  was  sound- 
ing his  clarion  sweet. 
In  wild  folly  defying  the  Ocean   Gods 

to  compete. 
Envious    Triton,    lo !  —  if   the    legend 

merit  belief — 
Drowned  him,  before  he  was  ware,  in 

the  foaming  waves  of  a  reef. 
All   now,   gathered    around   him,   uplift 

their  voices  in  grief. 
Foremost  the  faithful  chieftain.     Anon 

to  their  tasks  they  hie ; 
Speed,  though  weeping  sorely,  the  Sibyl's 

mission,  and  vie. 
Building    the    funeral    altar   with    giant 

trees  to  the  sky. 

Into   the    forest    primaeval,    the    beasts' 
dark  cover,  they  go  ; 
109 


Pine-trees  fall  with  a  crash  and  the 
holm-oaks  ring  to  the  blow. 

Ash-hewn  timbers  and  fissile  oaks  with 
the  wedges  are  rent ; 

Massive  ash-trees  roll  from  the  moun- 
tains down  the  descent. 

Foremost  strides  iEneas,  as  ever,  guid- 
ing the  way, 

Cheering  his  men,  and  equipped  with  a 
forester's  axe  as  they. 

Long  in  his  own  sad  thoughts  he  is 
plunged  —  then  raising  his  eyes 

Over  the  measureless  forest,  uplifts  his 
prayer  to  the  skies. 

"  O  that  in  this  great  thicket  the  golden 
branch  of  the  tree 

Might  be  revealed!  For  in  all  she 
related  yonder  of  thee 

Ever,  alas !  Misenus,  the  prophetess 
spake  too  true." 

Lo !  at  the  words  twain  doves  came 
down  through  the  heavenly  blue. 

And  at  his  side  on  the  green  turf  lighted. 
The  hero  of  Troy 

Knows  the  celestial  birds  of  his  mother, 
and  cries  with  joy : 

no 


"  Guide  us,  if  ever  a  way  be,  and  cleav- 
ing swiftly  the  skies. 
Wing  for  the  grove  where  in  shadow  a 

golden  branch  overlies 
One  all-favoured  spot.     Nor  do  thou  in 

an  hour  that  is  dark. 
Mother,  desert  thy  son  !  "     So   saying, 

he  pauses  to  mark 
What  be  the  omens,  and  whither  the 

birds  go.     They  in  their  flight, 
Soaring,  and  lighting  to  feed,  keep  still 

in  the  Teucrians*  sight. 
When  they  have  come  to  the  valley  of 

baleful  Avernus,  the  pair. 
Shooting  aloft,  float  up  through  a  bright 

and  radiant  air; 
Both    on   a  tree    they   have    chosen    at 

length  their  pinions  fold 
Through  whose  branches  of  green  is  a 

wavering  glimmer  of  gold. 
As  in  the  winter  forest  a  mistletoe  often 

ye  see 
Bearing  a  foliage  young,  no  growth  of 

its  own  oak-tree. 
Circling  the  rounded  boles  with  a  leafage 

of  yellowing  bloom ; 

III 


Such  was  the  branching  gold,  as  it  shone 

through  the  holm-oak's  gloom, 
So   in   the   light   wind   rustled   the   foil. 

JEneas  with  bold 
Ardour  assails  it,  breaks  from  the  tree 

the  reluctant  gold ; 
Then  to  the   Sibyl's  palace  in  triumph 

carries  it  home. 

Weeping  for  dead  Misenus  the  Trojan 

host  on  the  shore 
Now  to  his  thankless  ashes  the  funeral 

offerings  bore. 
Rich  with  the  resinous  pine  and  in  oak- 
hewn  timbers  cased 
Rises  a  giant  pyre,  in  its  sides  dark  foliage 

laced ; 
Planted  in  front  stand  branches  of  cypress, 

gifts  to  the  grave  ; 
Over  it  hang  for  adornment  the  gleaming 

arms  of  the  brave. 
Some  heat  fountain  water,  the  bubbling 

caldron  prepare ; 
Clay-cold  limbs  then  wash  and  anoint. 

Wail  sounds  on  the  air. 
Dirge  at  an  end,  the  departed  is  placed 

on  the  funeral  bed ; 
112 


O'er  him  they  fling  bright  raiment,  the 

wonted  attire  of  the  dead. 
Others  shoulder  the  ponderous  bier,  sad 

service  of  death ; 
Some   in   ancestral    fashion    the    lighted 

torches  beneath 
Hold  with  averted  eyes.     High  blaze  on 

the  burning  pyre 
Incense,  funeral  viands,  and  oil  outpoured 

on  the  fire. 
After  the  ashes  have  fallen  and  flames 

are  leaping  no  more, 
Wine    on    the    smouldering   relics    and 

cinders  thirsty  they  pour. 
Next  in  a  vessel  of  brass  Corynaeus  gath- 
ers the  bones. 
Thrice  bears  pure  spring  water  around 

Troy's  sorrowing  sons. 
Sprinkles  it  o'er  them  in  dew,  from  the 

bough  of  an  olive  in  bloom. 
Gives  lustration  to  all,  then  bids  farewell 

to  the  tomb. 
But    the    devout   i^neas    a    vast    grave 

builds  on  the  shore. 
Places   upon  it  the  warrior's  arms,  his 

trumpet  and  oar, 

113 


Close  to  the  sky-capped  hill  that  from 

hence  Misenus  is  hight. 
Keeping  through  endless  ages  his  glorious 

memory  bright. 


114 


THE  DESCENT  TO  AVERNUS 


Finished  the    task,  to    accomplish   the 

Sibyl's  behest  they  sped. 
There    was    a    cavern    deep,  —  with    a 

yawning  throat  and  a  dread, — 
Shingly  and  rough,  by  a  sombre  lake  and 

a  forest  of  night 
Sheltered   from  all  approach.     No  bird 

wings  safely  her  flight 
Over  its  face,  —  from  the  gorges  exhales 

such  poisonous  breath, 
lis 


Rising  aloft  to  the  skies  in  a  vapour  laden 

with  death. 
Here  four  sable  oxen  the  priestess  ranges 

in  line ; 
Empties  on  every  forehead  a  brimming 

beaker  of  wine ; 
Casts  on  the  altar-fire,  as  the  first-fruits 

due  to  the  dead, 
Hair  from    between   both  horns  of  the 

victim,  plucked  from  its  head  ; 
Loudly  on  Hecate  calls,  o'er  heaven  and 

the  shadows  supreme. 
Others  handle  the  knife,  and  receive,  as 

it  trickles,  the  stream 
Warm    from     the    throat    in    a    bowl. 

JEnc2iS  with  falchion  bright 
Slays  himself  one  lamb  of  a  sable  fleece 

to  the  fell 
Mother   and   queen   of  the  Furies,  and 

great  Earth,  sister  of  Night, 
Killing   a  barren    heifer   to    thee,  thou 

mistress  of  Hell. 
Next  for  the  Stygian  monarch  a  twilight 

altar  he  lays ; 
Flings  on    the    flames  whole  bodies  of 

bulls  unquartered  to  blaze, 

Ii6 


Pours  rich  oil  from  above  upon  entrails 

burning  and  bright. 
When,  at  the  earliest  beam  of  the  sun, 

and  the  dawn  of  the  light. 
Under  his  feet  earth  mutters,  the  moun- 
tain forests  around 
Seem  to  be  trembling,  and  hell  dogs  bay 

from  the  shadow  profound. 
Night's  dark  goddess  approaching. 

"  Avaunt,  ye  unhallowed,  avaunt !  " 
Thunders  the  priestess.    ^'  Away  from  a 

grove  that  is  Hecate's  haunt. 
Make  for   the  pathway,  thou,  and  un- 

sheath  thy  sword ;  thou  hast  need, 
Now,  iEneas,  of  all  thy  spirit  and  valour 

indeed  ! " 
When  she  had  spoken,  she  plunged  in 

her  madness  into  the  cave; 
Not  less  swiftly  he  follows,  with    feet 

unswerving  and  brave. 

Gods !  whose  realm  is  the  spirit-world, 
mute  shadows  of  might. 

Chaos,  and  Phlegethon  thou,  broad  king- 
doms of  silence  and  night. 

Leave  vouchsafe  me  to  tell  the  tradition, 
grace  to  exhume 
117 


Things  in  the  deep  earth  hidden  and 
drowned  in  the  hollows  of  gloom. 

So  unseen  thro*  darkness,  amid  lone  night, 
they  strode 

Down  the  unpeopled  realm  of  Death, 
and  his  ghostly  abode. 

As  men  journey  in  woods  when  a  doubt- 
ful moon  has  bestowed 

Little  of  light,  when  Jove  has  concealed 
in  shadow  the  heaven. 

When  from  the  world  by  sombre  Night 
Day's  colours  are  driven. 

Facing  the  porch  itself,  in  the  jaws  of  the 

gate  of  the  dead. 
Grief,  and  Remorse  the  Avenger,  have 

built  their  terrible  bed. 
There  dwells  pale-cheeked  Sickness,  and 

Old  Age  sorrowful-eyed. 
Fear,   and    the    temptress    Famine,  and 

hideous  Want  at  her  side. 
Grim  and   tremendous    shapes.     There 

Death  with  Labour  is  joined. 
Sleep,    half-brother  of   Death,  and  the 

Joys  unclean  of  the  mind. 

Il8 


Murderous  Battle  is  campt  on  the 
threshold.    Fronting  the  door 

The  iron  cells  of  the  Furies,  and  frenzied 
Strife,  evermore 

Wreathing  her  serpent  tresses  with  gar- 
lands dabbled  in  gore. 


Thick  with  gloom,  an  enormous  elm  in 
the  midst  of  the  way 

Spreads  its  time-worn  branches  and  limbs: 
false  Dreams,  we  are  told. 

Make  their  abode  thereunder,  and  nestle 
to  every  spray. 

Many  and  various  monsters,  withal,  wild 
things  to  behold. 

Lie  in  the  gateway  stabled  —  the  awful 
Centaurs  of  old ; 

Scyllas  with  forms  half-human;  and 
there  with  his  hundred  hands 

Dwells  Briareus ;  and  the  shapeless  Hy- 
dra of  Lerna*s  lands. 

Horribly  yelling;  in  flaming  mail  the 
Chimaera  arrayed ; 

Gorgons  and  Harpies,  and  one  three- 
bodied  and  terrible  Shade. 

119 


Clasping  his  sword,  ^neas   in  sudden 

panic  of  fear 
Points  its  blade  at  the  legion ;  and  had 

not  the  Heaven-taught  seer 
Warned    him    the    phantoms   are   thin 

apparitions,  clothed  in  a  vain 
Semblance  of  form,  but  in  substance  a 

fluttering  bodiless  train, 
Idly  his  weapon  had  slashed  the  advancing 

shadows  in  twain. 


120 


THE   RIVER  OF  ACHERON 

Here  is  the  path  to  the  river  of  Acheron, 
ever  by  mud 

Clouded,  for  ever  seething  with  wild, 
insatiate  flood 

Downward,  and  into  Cocytus  disgorging 
its  endless  sands. 

Sentinel  over  its  waters  an  awful  ferry- 
man stands, 

Charon,  grisly  and  rugged  ;  a  growth  of 
centuries  lies 

121 


Hoary  and  rough  on  his  chin ;  as  a  flam- 
ing furnace  his  eyes. 

Hung  in  a  loop  from  his  shoulders  a  foul 
scarf  round  him  he  ties ; 

Now  with  his  pole  impelling  the  boat, 
now  trimming  the  sail, 

Urging  his  steel-gray  bark  with  its  burden 
of  corpses  pale, 

Aged  in  years,  but  a  god's  old  age  is  un- 
withered  and  hale. 

Down  to  the  bank  of  the  river  the  stream- 
ing shadows  repair. 

Mothers,  and  men,  and  the  lifeless  bodies 
of  those  who  were 

Generous  heroes,  boys  that  are  beardless, 
maids  unwed. 

Sons  borne  forth  in  the  sight  of  their 
sires  to  the  pile  of  the  dead. 

Many  as  forest  leaves  that  in  autumn's 
earliest  frost 

Flutter  and  fall,  or  as  birds  that  in  bevies 
flock  to  the  coast 

Over  the  sea's  deep  hollows,  when  win- 
ter, chilly  and  frore. 

Drives  them  across  far  waters  to  land  on 
a  sunnier  shore. 

122 


Yonder    they    stood,    each    praying    for 

earliest  passage,  and  each 
Eagerly  straining  his  hands  in  desire  of 

the  opposite  beach. 
Such  as  he  lists  to  the  vessel  the  boatman 

gloomy  receives. 
Far  from  the  sands  of  the  river  the  rest 

he  chases  and  leaves. 

Moved  at  the  wild  uproar,  iEneas,  with 

riveted  eyes  : 
"  Why    thus   crowd   to    the    water    the 

shadows,  priestess  ?  "  he  cries ; 
"  What  do  the  spirits  desire  ?     And  why 

go  some  from  the  shore 
Sadly  away,  while  others  are  ferried  the 

dark  stream  o'er  ?  " 

Briefly   the    aged    priestess    again   made 

answer  and  spake : 
"  Son  of  Anchises,  sprung  most  surely 

from  gods  upon  high. 
Yon  is  the  deep  Cocytus  marsh,  and  the 

Stygian  lake. 
Even  the  Immortals   fear  to  attest    its 

presence  and  lie ! 

123 


These  are  a  multitude  helpless,  of  spirit 
lacking  a  grave ; 

Charon  the  ferryman ;  yonder  the  buried, 
crossing  the  wave. 

Over  the  awful  banks  and  the  hoarse- 
voiced  torrents  of  doom 

None  may  be  taken  before  their  bones 
find  rest  in  a  tomb. 

Hundreds  of  years  they  wander,  and  flit 
round  river  and  shore. 

Then  to  the  lake  they  long  for  are  free 


Silent  the  hero  gazed  and  his  footstep 

halted,  his  mind 
Filled   with   his  own  sad  thoughts  and 

compassion  of  doom  unkind. 
Yonder  he  notes,  in  affliction,  deprived 

of  the  dues  of  the  dead. 
Near  Leucaspis,  Orontes  who  Lycia*s 

vessels  had  led. 
Over  the  wind-tost  waters  from  Troy 

as  together  they  drave, 
One  wild  storm  overtook  them,  engulfing 

vessels  and  brave. 
Yonder,    behold,    Palinurus    the    pilot 

gloomily  went, 
124 


Who,  while  sailing  from  Libya's  shores, 

on  the  planets  intent. 
Fell  but  of  late  from  the  stern,  and  was 

lost  in  a  watery  waste. 
Hardly  he  knows    him    at    first,   as   in 

shadow  sadly  he  paced  ; 
Then    at    the   last    breaks    silence    and 

cries  :  "  What  God  can  it  be 
Robbed    us    of    thee,    Palinurus,    and 

drowned  thee  deep  in  the  sea  ? 
Answer  me  thou !     For  Apollo  I  ne'er 

found  false  till  to-day ; 
Only  in  this  one  thing  hath  his  prophecy 

led  us  astray. 
Safe  with  life  from  the  deep  to  Italian 

shores,  we  were  told. 
Thou  should'st  come  at  the  last !     Is  it 

thus  that  his  promises  hold  ?  " 

"  Son     of     Anchises,"      he      answers, 

"  Apollo's  tripod  and  shrine 
Have  not  lied ;  no  god  overwhelmed  me 

thus  in  the  brine. 
True  to  my  trust  I  was  holding  the  helm, 

stood  ruling  the  course. 
When  by  sad  misadventure  I  wrencht  it 

loose,  and  perforce 
125 


Trailed   it   behind  in  my  fall.     By  the 

cruel  waters  I  swear 
Fear  of  mine  own  life  truly  I  knew  not, 

felt  but  a  care 
Lest  thy  bark,  of  her  rudder  bereft,  and 

her  helmsman  lost,         • 
Might  be  unequal  to  combat  the  wild 

seas  round  her  that  tost. 
Three  long  nights  of  the  winter,  across 

great  waters  and  wide. 
Violent  south  winds  swept  me ;  at  fourth 

day's  dawn  I  descried 
Italy's  coast,  as  I  rose  on  the  crest  of  a 

wave  of  the  sea. 
Stroke  by  stroke  I  was  swimming  ashore, 

seemed  nearly  to  be 
Safe  from  the  billows ;  and  weighted  by 

dripping  garments  I  clave. 
Clutching  my  hands,  to  the  face  of  a 

cliff  that  towered  on  the  wave. 
When  wild  people  assailed  me,  a  treasure- 
trove  to  their  mind. 
Now  are  the  waves  my  masters ;  I  toss 

on  the  beach  in  the  wind. 
O !  by  the  pleasant  sun,  by  the  joyous 

light  of  the  skies, 

126 


By  thy  sire,  and  lulus,  the  rising  hope 

of  thine  eyes, 
Save  me  from  these  great  sorrows,  my 

hero  !     Over  me  pour 
Earth,  as  in  truth  thou  canst,  and  return 

to  the  Velian  shore. 
Else,  if  a  heavenly  mother  hath  shown 

thee  yonder  a  way,  — 
Since    some    god's  own    presence,    me- 

thinks,  doth  guide  thee,  who  here 
Seekest  to  cross  these  streams  and  the 

Stygian  marshes  drear, — 
Give  thy  hand  to  thy  servant,  and  take 

him  with  thee  to-day. 
So  that  in  quiet  places  his  wearied  head 

he  may  lay  !  " 
Thus,  sad  phantom,  he  cried ;  thus  an- 
swered the  seer  of  the  shrine : 
"  Whence,    Palinurus,    comes    this    ill- 
omened  longing  of  thine  ? 
Thou   cast   eyes,   unburied,   on  Stygian 

waves,  the  severe 
Stream  of  the  Furies,  approach  unbidden 

the  banks  of  the  mere  ! 
Cease  thy  dream  that  the  Fates  by  prayer 

may  be  ever  appeased, 

127 


Yet  keep  this  in  remembrance,  that  so 

thy  lot  may  be  eased  :  — 
Many  a  neighbouring  people  from  cities 

far  and  unknown, 
Taught   by  prodigies  dire   of  the  skies, 

thy  bones  shall  atone. 
Building  thy  tomb,  and  remitting  their 

gifts  each  year  to  thy  ghost ; 
So  Palinurus'  name  shall  for  ever  cleave 

to  the  coast." 
Thus  his  affliction  she  soothes.     For  a 

little  season  his  sad 
Spirit   has    comfort;  he  thinks    on    his 

namesake  land  and  is  glad. 


AtUV 


128 


THE  CROSSING  OF  THE  STYX 

Thence  they    advance   on   the  journey 

and  now  draw  near  to  the  flood. 
Soon   as  the  boatman  saw  them,  from 

where  on  the  water  he  stood, 
Move  through  the  silent  forest  and  bend 

their  steps  to  the  beach, 
Ere  they  arrive  he  accosts  them,  and  first 

breaks  silence  in  speech. 
"  Stranger,  approaching  in  arms  our  river, 

whoever  thou  art, 
129 


Speak  on  the  spot  thine  errand,  and  hold 

thee  farther  apart. 
This  is  the  kingdom  of  shadows,  of  sleep 

and  the  slumberous  dark  ; 
Bodies  of  living  men  are  forbidden  the 

Stygian  bark. 
Not  of  mine  own  good  will  was  Alcides 

over  the  wave 
Yonder,  or  Theseus  taken,  nor  yet  Piri- 

thous  brave, 
Though  from  gods  they  descended,  and 

matchless  warriors  were ; 
One    from   the  monarch's    presence  to 

chains  sought  boldly  to  bear 
Hell's  unslumbering  warder,  and  trailed 

him  trembling  away. 
Two  from  her  bridal  chamber  conspired 

Death's  queen  to  convey." 

Briefly    again    makes    answer    the  great 

Amphrysian  seer: 
"Here  no  cunning  awaits  thee  as  theirs 

was,  far  be  the  fear. 
Violence    none    our    weapons    prepare ; 

Hell's  warder  may  still 
Bay  in  his  cavern  for  ever,  affrighting 

the  phantoms  chill ; 
130 


Hell's  chaste  mistress  keep  to  her  kins- 
man's halls  if  she  will. 

Troy's  ^neas,  a  son  most  loving,  a 
warrior  brave, 

Goes  in  the  quest  of  his  sire  to  the  deep- 
est gloom  of  the  grave. 

If  thou  art  all  unmoved  at  the  sight  of  a 
love  so  true  "  — 

Here  she  displays  him  the  bough  in  her 
garment  hidden  from  view  — 

"  Know  this  branch."  In  his  bosom 
the  tempest  of  anger  abates. 

Further  he  saith  not.  Feasting  his  eyes 
on  the  wand  of  the  Fates, 

Mighty  oblation,  unseen  for  unnumbered 
summers  before,  / 

Charon  advances  his  dark-blue  bows,  and 
approaches  the  shore ; 

Summons  the  rest  of  the  spirits  in  row 
on  the  benches  who  sate 

Place  to  resign  for  the  comers,  his  gang- 
way clears,  and  on  board 

Takes  iEneas.  The  cobbled  boat  groans 
under  his  weight. 

Water  in  streams  from  the  marshes 
through  every  fissure  is  poured. 

131 


Priestess  and  hero  safely  across  Death's 

river  are  past, 
Land    upon    mud    unsightly,    and    pale 

marsh-sedges,  at  last. 


132 


THE    REALMS    OF    THE   DEAD 

Here  huge  Cerberus  bays  with  his  triple 

jaws  through  the  land, 
Croucht  at  enormous  length  in  his  cavern 

facing  the  strand. 
Soon  as  the   Sibyl   noted  his  hair  now 

bristling  with  snakes, 
Morsels  she  flings  him  of  meal,  and  of 

honeyed  opiate  cakes. 
Maddened  with  fury  of  famine  his  three 

great  throats  unclose ; 
Fiercely  he  snatches  the  viand,  his  mon- 
strous limbs  in  repose 
Loosens,    and,    prostrate    laid,    sprawls 

measureless  over  his  den. 
133 


While  the  custodian  sleeps,  JEnc&s  the 

entrance  takes, 
Speeds  from   the   bank  of  a  stream  no 

traveller  crosses  again. 

Voices  they  heard,  and  an  infinite  wail- 
ing, as  onward  they  bore, 

Spirits  of  infants  sobbing  at  Death's  im- 
mediate door. 

Whom,  at  a  mother's  bosom,  and  stran- 
gers to  life's  sweet  breath. 

Fate's  dark  day  took  from  us,  and 
drowned  in  untimeliest  death. 

Near  them  are  those  who,  falsely  accused, 
died  guiltless,  although 

Not  without  trial,  or  verdict  given,  do 
they  enter  below ; 

Here,  with  his  urn,  sits  Minos  the  judge, 
convenes  from  within 

Silent  ghosts  to  the  council,  and  learns 
each  life  and  its  sin. 

Near  them  inhabit  the  sorrowing  souls, 
whose  innocent  hands 

Wrought  on  themselves  their  ruin,  and 
strewed  their  lives  on  the  sands. 

Hating  the  glorious  sunlight.  Alas ! 
how  willingly  they 

134 


Now  would  endure  keen  want,  hard  toil, 

in  the  regions  of  day  ! 
Fate  forbids  it ;  the  loveless  lake  v/ith  its 

waters  of  woe 
Holds  them,  and  nine  times  round  them 

entwined,  Styx  bars  them  below. 

Further  faring,  they  see  that  beyond  and 

about  them  are  spread 
Fields  of  the  Mourners,  for  so  they  are 

called  in  worlds  of  the  dead. 
Here  dwell  those  whom  Love,  with  his 

cruel  sickness,  hath  slain. 
Lost    in    secluded    walks,    amid    myrtle 

groves  overhead. 
Hiding  they  go,  nor  in  death  itself  are 

they  eased  of  the  pain. 
Phaedra,  and  Procris,  here,  Eriphyle  here 

they  behold. 
Sadly   displaying   the    wounds   that    her 

wild  son  wrought  her  of  old. 

Yonder  Pasiphae  stood  and  Evadne ;  close 

to  them  clung 
Laodamia,    and    Caenis,  a    man    once, 

woman  at  last, 

135 


Now  by  the  wheel  of  the  Fates  in  her 
former  figure  recast. 

Fresh  from  her  death-wound  still,  here 
Dido,  the  others  among. 

Roamed  in  a  spacious  wood.  Thro' 
shadow  the  chieftain  soon 

Dimly  discerned  her  face,  as  a  man, 
when  the  month  is  but  young, 

Sees,  or  believes  he  has  seen,  amid  cloud- 
less shining,  the  moon. 

Tears  in  his  eyes,  he  addressed  her  with 

tender  love  as  of  old  : 
"  True,  then,  sorrowful  Dido,  the  mes- 
senger fires  that  told 
Thy   sad    death,   and    the    doom    thou 

soughtest  of  choice  by  thy  hand  ! 
Was  it,  alas  !  to  a  grave  that  I  did  thee  ? 

Now  by  the  bright 
Stars,  by  the  Gods,  and  the  faith  that 

abides  in  realms  of  the  Night, 
'T  was  unwillingly,  lady,  I  bade  farewell 

to  thy  land. 
Yet,    the    behest  of    Immortals,  —  the 

same  which  bids  me  to  go 
Thro'    these    shadows,    the    wilderness 

mire  and  the  darkness  below,  — 

136 


Drove  me  imperious  thence,  nor  possest 

I  power  to  believe 
I  at  departing  had  left  thee  in  grief  thus 

bitter  to  grieve. 
Tarry,  and  turn  not  away  from  a  face 

that  on  thine  would  dwell ; 
'T  is  thy  lover  thou  fliest,  and  this  is  our 

last  farewell ! " 

So,  with  a  burning  heart  and  with  glower- 
ing eyes  as  she  went. 
Melting  vainly  in  tears,  he  essayed  her 

wrath  to  relent; 
She  with  averted  gaze   upon  earth  her 

countenance  cast, 
Nothing  toucht  in  her  look  by  her  lover's 

words  to  the  last. 
Set  as  a  marble  rock  of  Marpessus,  cold 

as  a  stone. 
After  a  little  she  fled,  in  the  forest  hurried 

to  hide. 
Ever  his   foe;  Sychaeus,  her  first  lord, 

there  at  her  side. 
Answers  sorrow  with  sorrow,  and  love 

not  less  than  her  own. 


137 


THE  HEROES   OF  TROY 

Thence  on  the  path  appointed  they  go, 

and  the  uttermost  plain 
Reach  ere  long,  where  rest  in  seclusion 

the  glorious  slain. 
Tydeus  here  he  discerns,  here  Partheno- 

paeus  of  old 
Famous    in    arms,   and    the    ghost    of 

Adrastus,  pallid  and  cold. 
Wailed  in  the  world  of  the  sunlight  long, 

laid  low  in  the  fray, 

138 


Here  dwell  Ilion's  chiefs.     As  his  eyes 

on  the  gallant  array 
Lighted,   he    groaned.     Three    sons    of 

Antenor  yonder  they  see, 
Glaucus  and  Medon  and  young  Thersi- 

lochus,  brethren  three ; 
Here    Polyphaetes,    servant    of    Heaven 

from  his  earliest  breath ; 
There  Idaeus,  the   shield  and  the  reins 

still  holding  in  death. 
Thickly  about  him    gather  the  spectral 

children  of  Troy : 
'T  is  not  enough  to  have  seen  him,  to 

linger  round  him  is  joy, 
Pace  at  his  side,  and  inquire  why  thus 

he  descends  to  the  dead. 
But  the  Achaean    chiefs,  Agamemnon's 

legions  arrayed. 
When  on  the  hero  they  looked,  and  his 

armour  gleaming  in  shade. 
Shook  with  an  infinite  terror,  and  some 

turned  from  him  and  fled. 
As  to  the  Danaan  vessels  in  days  gone 

by  they  had  sped. 
Some  on  the  air  raise  thinnest  of  voices ; 

the  shout  of  the  fray 

139 


Seems,    upon    lips    wide-parted,    begun, 
then  passing  away. 

Noble   Deiphobus  here  he  beholds,  all 

mangled  and  marred. 
Son   of  the    royal    Priam  ;  —  his  visage 

cruelly  scarred. 
Visage   and    hands ;     from    his    ravaged 

temples  bloodily  shorn 
Each   of  his   ears,  and  his  nostrils  with 

wounds  inglorious  torn. 
Hardly  he  knew  him   in  sooth,  for  he 

trembled,  seeking  to  hide 
These  great  wrongs;   but   at  last  in  a 

voice  most  loving  he  cried : 
"  Gallant  Deiphobus,  born  of  the  Teu- 

crian  lineage  bright. 
Who  had  the  heart  to  revenge  him  in 

this  dire  fashion  and  dread  ? 
Who   dared  thus   to  abuse  thee?     On 

Troy's  last  funeral  night. 
Weary  of  endless  slaughter  and  Danaan 

blood,  it  was  said 
Thou  hadst  laid  thee  to  die  on  a  heap  of 

the  nameless  dead. 
Yea !    and  a  vacant    mound    upon    far 

Rhcetaeum's  coast 
140 


I  there  built  thee,  and  thrice  bade  loud 

farewell  to  thy  ghost. 
Hallowed  the  spot  by  thine  armour  and 

name.     Ere  crossing  the  wave 
Never,   friend,  could    I    find    thee,  nor 

give  thee  an  Ilian  grave." 

"  Nothing  was  left  undone,  O  friend  !  ** 

he  replies ;  "  thou  hast  paid 
All  that  Deiphobus  claims,  all  debt  that 

was  due  to  his  shade. 
'Twas   my  destiny   sad,  and  the  crime 

accurst  of  the  Greek 
Woman,  in  woe  that  plunged  me,  and 

wrote  this  tale  on  my  cheek. 
Well  thou  knowest  —  for  ah  !  too  long 

will  the  memory  last  — 
How  Troy's  funeral  night  amid  treach- 
erous pleasures  we  past ; 
When    Fate's  terrible    steed    overcame 

our  walls  at  a  leap. 
Carrying    mailclad    men    in    its    womb 

towards  Pergama's  steep ; 
How,  a  procession  feigning,  the  Phrygian 

mothers  she  led 
Round   our    city  in    orgy,  with    lighted 

torch  at  their  head 
141 


Waving  herself  the  Achaeans  to  Ilion*s 

citadel  keep. 
I,  that  night,  overburdened  with  troubles, 

buried  in  sleep, 
Lay    in    the    fatal    chamber,    delicious 

slumber  and  deep 
Folding  mine  eyelids,  like  the  unbroken 

rest  of  the  slain. 
She,    meanwhile,    my    glorious    spouse, 

from  the  palace  has  ta*en 
Every    weapon,    and    drawn    from    the 

pillow  the  falchion  I  bore. 
Then  Menelaus  summons,  and  straight- 
way loosens  the  door. 
Hoping  in  sooth  that  her  lover  with  this 

great  boon  might  be  won. 
Deeming  the  fame  of  her  guilt  in  the 

past  might  so  be  undone. 
Why  on  the  memory  linger  ?     The  foe 

streamed  in  at  the  gate 
Led  by  Ulysses,  the  plotter.     May  judg- 
ment. Immortals,  wait 
Yet  on  the  Greeks,  if  of  vengeance  a 

reverent  heart  may  be  fain  ! 
Tell  me  in  turn  what  sorrow  has  brought 

thee  alive  and  unslain 

142 


Hither  ?  "    he    cries ;    "  art    come    as    a 

mariner  lost  on  the  main. 
Or  by  the  counsel  of  Heaven  ?     What 

fortune  drives  thee  in  quest, 
Hither,  of  sunless    places  and  sad,  the 

abodes  of  unrest  ? " 
Morn  already  with  roseate  steeds,  while 

talk  they  exchange. 
Now  in  her  journey  has  traversed  the 

half  of  the  heavenly  range. 
And  peradventure  thus  the  allotted  time 

had  been  past. 
Had  not  the  faithful  Sibyl  rebuked  him 

briefly  at  last. 
"  Night  draws  nigh,  ^neas.     In  tears 

we  are  spending  the  hours. 
Here  is  the    place  where   the   path    is 

divided.     This  to  the  right. 
Under  the  walls  of  the  terrible  Dis  —  to 

Elysium  —  ours. 
Yonder,  the    left,  brings    doom    to   the 

guilty,  and  drives  them  in  flight 
Down  to  the  sinful  region  where  awful 

Tartarus  lowers." 

"  Terrible  priestess,  frown  not,"  Dcipho- 
bus  cries  ;  "  I  depart, 
143 


Join  our  shadowy  legion,  restore  me  to 

darkness  anon. 
Go,  thou  joy  of  the  race ;  may  the  Fates 

vouchsafe  thee  a  part 
Brighter  than  mine  !  "     And  behold,  as 

he  uttered  the  word,  he  was  gone. 

Turning   his   eyes,   JEnezs    sees    broad 

battlements  placed 
Under  the  clifFs  on  his  left,  by  a  triple 

rampart  encased ; 
Round  them  in  torrents  of  ambient  fire 

runs  Phlegethon  swift. 
River  of  Hell,  and  the  thundering  rocks 

sends  ever  adrift. 
One  huge  portal  in  front  upon  pillars  of 

adamant  stands ; 
Neither  can  mortal  might,  nor  the  heav- 
ens' own  warrior  bands. 
Rend  it  asunder.     An  iron  tower  rears 

over  the  door, 
Where    Tisiphone    seated    in    garments 

dripping  with  gore 
Watches  the  porch,  unsleeping,  by  day 

and  by  night  evermore. 
Hence  come  groans  on  the  breezes,  the 

sound  of  a  pitiless  flail, 
144 


Rattle  of  iron  bands,  and  the  clanking 
of  fetters  that  trail. 

Silent    the   hero    stands,   and    in    terror 

rivets  his  eyes. 
"  What  dire    shapes  of   impiety  these  ? 

Speak,  priestess  !  "  he  cries. 
"What  dread  torment  racks  them,  and 

what  shrieks  yonder  arise  ?  " 
She    in    return :    "  Great    chief   of    the 

Teucrian  hosts,  as  is  meet 
Over  the  threshold  of  sinners  may  pass 

no  innocent  feet. 
Hecate's  self,  vi^ho  set  me  to  rule   the 

Avernian  glade. 
Taught  me  of  Heaven's  great  torments, 

and  all  their  terrors  displayed. 
Here  reigns  dread  Rhadamanthus,  a  king 

no  mercy  that  knows. 
Chastens  and  judges  the  guilty,  compels 

each  soul  to  disclose 
Crimes  of  the  upper  air  that    he    kept 

concealed  from  the  eye. 
Proud  of  his  idle    cunning,    till    Death 

brought  punishment  nigh. 
Straightway  then  the  Avenger  Tisi phone 

over  them  stands, 
145 


Scourges  the  trembling  sinners,  her  fierce 

lash  arming  her  hands ; 
Holds  in  her  left  uplifted  her   serpents 

grim,  and  from  far 
Summons  the  awful  troop  of  her  sisters 

gathered  for  war ! 
Then  at  the  last  with  a  grating  of  hide- 
ous hinges  unclose 
Hell's   infernal   doors.     Dost    see  what 

warders  are  those 
Crouched  in  the  porch  ?    What  presence 

is  yonder  keeping  the  gate  ? 
Know  that  a  Hydra  beyond  it,  a  foe  still 

fiercer  in  hate. 
Lurks  with  a  thousand  ravening  throats. 

See !  Tartarus  great 
Yawning  to  utter  abysses,  and  deepening 

into  the  night. 
Twice  as  profound  as  the  space  of  the 

starry  Olympian  height." 


THE  HORRORS  OF  TARTARUS 


"  Here  the  enormous  Titans,  the  Earth's 

old  progeny,  hurled 
Low    by    the    hghtning,  are    under    the 

bottomless  waters  whirled. 
Here    I    beheld    thy    children,    Aloeus, 

giants  of  might. 
Brethren  bold  who  endeavoured  to  pluck 

down  heaven  from  its  height, 
Fain    to  displace    great   Jove    from   his 

throne  in  the  kingdom  of  light. 
147 


Saw     Salmoneus     too,    overtaken    with 

agony  dire 
While  the  Olympian  thunder  he  mim- 
icked and  Jove's  own  fire. 
Borne  on    his  four-horsed    chariot,  and 

waving  torches  that  glowed, 
Over  the   Danaan   land,  thro*  the   city 

of  Elis,  he  rode. 
Marching  in  triumph,  and  claiming  the 

honours  due  to  a  god. 
Madman,   thinking    with    trumpets  and 

tramp  of  the  steeds  that  he  drove 
He    might    rival    the    storms,    and    the 

matchless  thunders  of  Jove  ! 
But  the  omnipotent  Father  a  bolt  from 

his  cloudy  abyss 
Launched  —  no  brand  from  the  pine,  no 

smoke  of  the  torchlight  this  — 
And    with    an    awful    whirlwind    blast 

hurled  Pride  to  its  fall. 
Tityos  also,  the  nurseling  of  Earth,  great 

mother  of  all. 
Here  was   to   see,  whose  body  a  long 

league  covers  of  plain ; 
One  huge  vulture,  standing  with  hooked 

beak  at  his  side, 

148 


Shears  his  liver  that  dies  not,  his  bowel 

fruitful  of  pain. 
Searches  his  heart  for  a  banquet,  beneath 

his  breast  doth  abide, 
Grants  no  peace  to  the  vitals  that  ever 

renew  them  again. 

"Why  of   Pirithous     tell,   and     Ixion, 

Lapithae  tall. 
O'er  whose  brows  is  suspended  a  dark 

crag,  ready  to  fall. 
Ever  in  act  to  descend  ?     Proud  couches 

raised  upon  bright 
Golden  feet  are  shining,  a  festal  table  in 

sight 
Laden  with  royal  splendour.    The  Furies* 

Queen  on  her  throne 
Sits  at  the  banquet  by  —  forbids  them  to 

taste  it  —  has  flown 
Now  to  prevent  them  with  torch  uplifted, 

and  thundering  tone. 

"  All  who  have  hated  a  brother  in  lifetime, 

all  who  have  laid 
Violent  hands  on  a  parent,  the  faith  of  a 

client  betrayed ; 

149 


Those  who  finding  a  treasure  have  o'er 

it  brooded  alone, 
Setting  aside  no  portion  for  kinsmen,  a 

numerous  band ; 
Those  in  adultery  slain,  all   those  who 

have  raised  in  the  land 
Treason's  banner,  or  broken  their  oath 

to  a  master's  hand. 
Prisoned  within  are    awaiting  an  awful 

doom  of  their  own. 

"  Ask  me  not,  what  their  doom,  —  what 

form  of  requital  or  ill 
Whelms  them  below.     Some  roll  huge 

stones  to  the  crest  of  the  hill. 
Some  on  the  spokes  of  a  whirling  wheel 

hang  spread  to  the  wind. 
Theseus  sits,  the  unblest,  and  will  ever 

seated  remain; 
Phlegyas  here  in  his  torments  a  warning 

voice  to  mankind 
Raises,   loudly    proclaiming    throughout 

Hell's  gloomy  abodes : 
'  Learn  hereby  to  be  just,  and  to  think 

no  scorn  of  the  Gods  ! ' 
This  is  the  sinner  his  country  who  sold, 

forged  tyranny's  chain, 
150 


Made  for  a  bribe  her  laws,  for  a  bribe 
unmade  them  again. 

Yon  wretch  dared  on  a  daughter  with 
eyes  unholy  to  look. 

All  some  infamy  ventured,  of  infamy's 
gains  partook. 

Had  I  a  thousand  tongues,  and  a  thou- 
sand lips,  and  a  speech 

Fashioned  of  steel,  sin's  varying  types  I 
hardly  could  teach. 

Could  not  read  thee  the  roll  of  the 
torments  suffered  of  each  !  " 

Soon  as  the  aged  seer  of  Apollo  her  story 

had  done, 
"  Forward,"  she  cries,  "  on  the  path,  and 

complete  thy  mission  begun. 
Hasten  the  march !  I  behold  in  the  dis- 
tance battlements  great. 
Built   by    the    Cyclops'  forge,  and   the 

vaulted  dome  at  the  gate 
Where  the  divine  revelation  ordains  our 

gifts  to  be  laid." 
Side  by  side  at  her  bidding  they  traverse 

the  region  of  shade. 
Over  the  distance  hasten,  and  now  draw 

nigh  to  the  doors. 


Fronting  the  gates  ^Eneas  stands,  fresh 

water  he  pours 
Over  his  limbs,  and  the  branch  on  the 

portal  hangs  as  she  bade. 


152 


THE  REALMS  OF  THE  BLEST 


After  the  rite  is  completed,  the  gift  to 

the  goddess  addrest, 
Now  at  the  last  they  come  to  the  realms 

where  Joy  has  her  throne ; 
Sweet    green    glades    in  the    Fortunate 

Forests,  abodes  of  the  blest. 
Fields  in  an  ampler  ether,  a  light  more 

glorious  drest. 
Lit  evermore  with  their  own  bright  stars 

and  a  sun  of  their  own. 
153 


Some  are   training    their  limbs   on   the 

wrestling-green,  and  compete 
Gaily  in  sport  on  the  yellow  arenas,  some 

with  their  feet 
Treading  their  choral  measures,  or  sing- 
ing the  hymns  of  the  god  j 
While  their  Thracian  priest,  in  a  sacred 

robe  that  trails. 
Chants    them    the    air   with    the    seven 

sweet  notes  of  his  musical  scales, 
Now  with  his  fingers  striking,  and  now 

with  his  ivory  rod. 
Here  are  the  ancient  children  of  Teucer, 

fair  to  behold. 
Generous   heroes,   born   in   the  happier 

summers  of  old,  — 
Uus,  Assaracus    by   him,    and    Dardan, 

founder  of  Troy. 
Far  in  the   distance   yonder   are  visible 

armour  and  car 
Unsubstantial,  in  earth  their  lances  are 

planted,  and  far 
Over    the    meadows    are    ranging    the 

charges  freed  from  employ. 
All  the  delight  they  took  when  alive  in 

the  chariot  and  sword, 

154 


All  of  the  loving   care    that  to  shining 

coursers  was  paid, 
Follows  them  now  that  in  quiet  below 

Earth's  breast  they  are  laid. 
Banqueting    here    he    beholds    them    to 

right  and  to  left  on  the  sward, 
Chanting  in  chorus  the  Paean,  beneath 

sweet  forests  of  bay, 
Whence,  amid  wild    wood  covers,    the 

river  Eridanus,  poured. 
Rolls  his  majestic  torrents  to  upper  earth 

and  the  day. 
Chiefs  for  the  land  of  their  sires  in  the 

battle  wounded  of  yore. 
Priests  whose   purity  lasted  until  sweet 

life  was  no  more. 
Faithful  prophets  who  spake  as  beseemed 

their  god  and  his  shrine. 
All  who  by  arts    invented  to  life  have 

added  a  grace. 
All  whose  services  earned    the  remem- 
brance deep  of  the  race. 
Round    their    shadowy     foreheads    the 

snow-white  garland  entwine. 

Then,    as    about    them    the     phantoms 

stream,  breaks  silence  the  seer, 

155 


Turning   first  to  Musseus,  —  for  round 

him  the  shadows  appear 
Thickest  to  crowd,  as  he   towers  with 

his  shoulders  over  the  throng  — 
"  Tell  me,  ye  joyous  spirits,  and  thou, 

bright  master  of  song. 
Where  is  the  home  and  the  haunt  of  the 

great  Anchises,  for  whom 
Hither  we  come,  and  have  traverst  the 

awful  rivers  of  gloom  ?  " 
Briefly  in  turn  makes  answer  the  hero : 

"  None  has  a  home 
In  fixt   haunts.     We   inhabit   the   dark 

thick  glades,  on  the  brink 
Ever  of  moss-banked  rivers,  and  water 

meadows  that  drink 
Living   streams.      But    if   onward   your 

heart  thus  wills  ye  to  go. 
Climb    this    ridge.     I    will    set   you   in 

pathways  easy  to  know." 
Forward  he  marches,  leading  the  way ; 

from  the  heights  at  the  end 
Shows    them  a  shining    plain,    and    the 

mountain  slopes  they  descend. 

There  withdrawn  to  a  valley  of  green  in 
a  fold  of  the  plain 

156 


Stood    Anchises    the    father,    his    eyes 

intent  on  a  train  — 
Prisoned  spirits,  soon  to  ascend  to  the 

sunlight  again ;  — 
Numbering  over  his  children  dear,  their 

myriad  bands, 
All  their  destinies  bright,  their  ways,  and 

the  work  of  their  hands. 
When    he    beheld    ^neas  across    these 

flowery  lands 
Moving  to  meet  him,  fondly  he  strained 

both  arms  to  his  boy. 
Tears    on   his  cheek  fell  fast,   and   his 

voice  found  slowly  employ. 

"  Here  thou  comest  at  last,  and  the  love 

I  counted  upon 
Over   the    rugged    path    has    prevailed. 

Once  more,  O  my  son, 
I    may    behold   thee,   and   answer    with 

mine  thy  voice  as  of  yore. 
Long  I  pondered  the  chances,  believed 

this  day  was  in  store. 
Reckoning   the   years   and   the   seasons. 

Nor  was  my  longing  belied. 
O'er  how  many  a  land,  past  what   far 

waters  and  wide, 
157 


Hast  thou  come  to  mine  arms !  What 
dangers  have  tost  thee,  my  child  ! 

Ah !  how  I  feared  lest  harm  should 
await  thee  in  Libya  wild  !  " 

"Thine  own  shade,  my  sire,  thine  own 

disconsolate  shade, 
Visiting  oft  my  chamber,  has  made   me 

seek  thee,"  he  said. 
"  Safe  upon  Tuscan  waters  the  fleet  lies. 

Grant  me  to  grasp 
Thy  right  hand,  sweet  father,  withdraw 

thee  not  from  its  clasp." 

So  he  replied  ;  and  a  river  of  tears  flowed 

over  his  face. 
Thrice  with    his    arms    he   essayed  the 

beloved  one's  neck  to  embrace ; 
Thrice  claspt  vainly,  the  phantom  eluded 

his  hands  in  flight. 
Thin  as  the  idle  breezes,  and  like  some 

dream  of  the  night. 

There  ^Eneas  beholds  in  a  valley  with- 
drawn from  the  rest 

Far-ofF  glades,  and  a  forest  of  boughs 
that  sing  in  the  breeze ; 

158 


Near   them  the  Lethe  river  that  glides 

by  abodes  of  the  blest. 
Round  it  numberless   races   and   people 

floating  he  sees. 
So   on  the   flowery   meadows    in    calm, 

clear,  summer,  the  bees 
Settle  on  bright-hued  blossoms,  or  stream 

in  companies  round 
Fair  white  lilies,  till  every  plain  seems 

ringing  with  sound. 

Strange  to  the  scene  iEneas,  with  terror 

suddenly  pale. 
Asks  of  its  meaning,  and  what  be  the 

streams  in  the  distant  vale. 
Who  those  warrior  crowds    that  about 

yon  river  await. 
Answer  returns  Anchises  :  "  The  spirits 

promist  by  Fate 
Life  in  the  body  again.     Upon  Lethe's 

watery  brink 
These  of  the  fountain  of  rest   and  of 

long  oblivion  drink. 
Ever    I   yearn    to   relate   thee   the   tale, 

display  to  thine  eyes, 
Count  thee  over  the  children  that  from 

my  loins  shall  arise, 
159 


So  that  our  joy  may  be  deeper  on  find- 
ing Italy's  skies." 

"  O  my  father !  and  are  there,  and  must 
we  believe  it,"  he  said, 

"  Spirits  that  fly  once  more  to  the  sun- 
light back  from  the  dead  ? 

Souls  that  anew  to  the  body  return  and 
the  fetters  of  clay  ? 

Can  there  be  any  who  long  for  the  light 
thus  blindly  as  they  ?  " 

"  Listen,    and    I   will    resolve  thee  the 

doubt,"  Anchises  replies. 
Then  unfolds  him  in  order  the  tale  of 

the  earth  and  the  skies. 

"In  the  beginning,  the  earth,  and  the 

sky,  and  the  spaces  of  night. 
Also    the    shining    moon,  and    the    sun 

Titanic  and  bright 
Feed  on   an  inward  life,  and  with  all 

things  mingled,  a  mind 
Moves  universal   matter,  with  Nature's 

frame  is  combined. 
Thence  man's  race,  and  the  beast,  and 

the  bird  that  on  pinions  flies, 
1 60 


All  wild  shapes  that  are  hidden  the 
gleaming  waters  beneath. 

Each  elemental  seed  has  a  fiery  force 
from  the  skies, 

Each,  its  heavenly  being,  that  no  dull 
clay  can  disguise. 

Bodies  of  earth  ne'er  deaden,  nor  limbs 
long  destined  to  death. 

Hence,  their  fears  and  desires  j  their  sor- 
rows and  joys  ;  for  their  sight. 

Blind  with  the  gloom  of  a  prison,  dis- 
cerns not  the  heavenly  light. 

"  Nor  when  at  last  life  leaves  them,  do 

all  sad  ills,  that  belong 
Unto  the  sinful  body,  depart  j  still  many 

survive 
Lingering  within  them,  alas  !  for  it  needs 

must  be  that  the  long 
Growth  should  in  wondrous  fashion  at 

full  completion  arrive. 
So,  due  vengeance  racks  them,  for  deeds 

of  an  earlier  day 
Suffering  penance,  and  some  to  the  winds 

hang  viewless  and  thin 
Searcht  by  the  breezes  ;  from  others,  the 

deep  infection  of  sin 
i6i 


Swirling    water    washes,    or    bright    fire 

purges,  away. 
Each  in  his  own  sad  ghost  we  endure; 

then  pass  to  the  wide 
Realms  of  Elysium.     Few  in  the  fields 

of  the  happy  abide, 
Till  great  Time,  when  the  cycles  have 

run  their  courses  on  high. 
Takes  the  inbred  pollution,  and  leaves  to 

us  only  the  bright 
Sense  of  the  heaven's  own  ether,  and  fire 

from  the  springs  of  the  sky. 
When   for  a  thousand  years  they  have 

rolled  their  wheels  thro*  the  night, 
God  to  the  Lethe  river  recalls  this  myriad 

train. 
That  with  remembrance  lost  once  more 

they  may  visit  the  light. 
And,  at  the  last,  have  desire  for  a  life  in 

the  body  again." 


When   he   had  ended,  his  son  and  the 

Sibyl  maiden  he  drew 
Into  the  vast  assembly  —  the  crowd  with 

its  endless  hum ; 

162 


There  on  a  hillock  plants  them,  that 
hence  they  better  may  view 

All  the  procession  advancing,  and  learn 
their  looks  as  they  come. 


163 


^^m*^J^eSf*^^^KI^M 

^K4^Jb^M 

1 

flj  h 

1    B 

11 

^n 

1 

THE  ROMAN  HEROES 


"  What  bright  fame  hereafter  the  Trojan 

line  shall  adorn, 
What  far  children  be  theirs,  from   the 

blood  of  Italians  born. 
Splendid  souls,  that  inherit  the  name  and 

the  glory  of  Troy, 
Now  will  I  tell  thee,  and  teach  thee  the 

fates  thy  race  shall  enjoy. 
Yon    fair   hero    who   leans    on  a  lance 

unpointed  and  bright, 
164 


Granted  the  earliest  place  in  the  world 

of  the  day  and  the  light, 
Half  of  Italian  birth,  from  the  shadows 

first  shall  ascend, 
Silvius,  Alban  of  name,  thy  child  tho' 

born  at  the  end. 
Son  of  thy  later  years  by  Lavinia,  consort 

of  thine. 
Reared  in  the  woods  as  a  monarch  and 

sire  of  a  royal  line. 
Next  to    him  Procas,  the  pride  of  the 

race ;  then  Capys,  and  far 
Numitor;  after  him  one  who  again  thy 

name  shall  revive, 
Silvius,  hight  ^neas,  in    pious    service 

and  war 
Noble  alike,  if  to  Alba's  throne  he  shall 

ever  arrive. 
Heroes  fair  !  how  grandly,  behold  !  their 

manhood  is  shown. 
While  their  brows  are  shaded  by  leaves 

of  the  citizen-crown ! 
These  on  the  mountain  ranges  shall  set 

Nomentum  the  steep, 
Gabii's  towers,  Fidenae's  town,  Collatia's 

keep; 


165 


Here  plant  Inuus'  camp,  there  Cora  and 

Bola  enthrone, 
Glorious  names  ere  long,  now  a  nameless 

land  and  unknown. 
Romulus,  scion  of  Mars,  at  the  side  of 

his  grandsire  see  — 
Ilia  fair  his  mother,  the  blood  of  Assa- 

racus  he ! 
See  on   his    helmet    the    doubled    crest, 

how  his  sire  has  begun 
Marking  the  boy  with   his  own    bright 

plumes  for  the  world  of  the  sun. 
Under  his  auspices  Rome,  our  glorious 

Rome,  shall  arise. 
Earth  with  her  empire  ruling,  her  great 

soul  touching  the  skies. 
Lo  !  seven  mountains  enwalling,  a  single 

city,  she  lies. 
Blest  in  her  warrior  brood  !     So  crowned 

with  towers  ye  have  seen 
Ride    thro'    Phrygians    cities    the    great 

Berecynthian  queen. 
Proud  of  the  gods  her  children,  a  hundred 

sons  at  her  knee. 
All  of  them  mighty  immortals,  and  lords 

of  a  heavenly  fee  ! 

l66 


Turn  thy  glance  now  hither,  behold  this 

glorious  clan, 
Romans  of  thine.     See  Caesar,  and  each 

generation  of  man 
Yet  to  be  born  of  lulus  beneath  heaven's 

infinite  dome. 
Yonder   behold  thy  hero,  the  promised 

prince,  upon  whom 
Often  thy  hopes  have  dwelt,  Augustus 

Caesar,  by  birth 
Kin  to  the  godlike  dead,  who  a  golden 

age  upon  earth 
Comes  to  renew  where  once  o'er  Latium 

Saturn  reigned. 
Holding  remote  Garamantes  and  India's 

tribes  enchained. 
Far  beyond  all  our  planets  the  land  lies, 

far  beyond  high 
Heaven,  and  the  sun's  own  orbit,  where 

Atlas,  lifting  the  sky. 
Whirls    on    his    shoulders    the    sphere, 

inwrought  with  its  fiery  suns  ! 
Ere  his  arrival,  lo  !  thro'  shivering  Caspia 

runs 
Fear,    at    her    oracle's    answers.     The 

vast  Maeotian  plain, 

167 


Sevenfold  Nile  and  his  mouths,  are  flut- 
tered and  tremble  again ; 

Ranges  of  earth  more  wide  than  Alcides 
ever  surveyed, 

Tho'  he  pursued  deer  brazen  of  limb, 
tamed  Erymanth's  glade, 

Lerna  with  arrows  scared,  or  the  Vine- 
god,  when  from  the  war 

Homeward  with  ivied  reins  he  conducts 
his  conquering  car. 

Driving  his  team  of  tigers  from  Nysa's 
summits  afar. — 

Art  thou  loth  any  longer  with  deeds  our 
sway  to  expand? 

Can  it  be  fear  forbids  thee  to  hold 
Ausonia's  land  ? 

''  Who  comes  yonder  the  while  with  the 

olive  branch  on  his  brow. 
Bearing  the  sacred  vessels  ?     I  know  yon 

tresses,  I  know 
Yon  gray  beard,  Rome's  monarch,  the 

first  with  law  to  sustain 
Rome  yet  young ;  from  the  lordship  of 

Cures'  little  domain 
Sent  to  an  empire's  throne.     At  his  side 

goes  one  who  shall  break 
i68 


Slumberous  peace,  to  the  battle  her  ease- 
ful warriors  wake, 
Rouse  once  more  her  battalions  disused 

to  the  triumph  so  long, 
Tullus    the    king !     Next,    Ancus    the 

boastful  marches  along. 
See,  overjoyed  already  by  praises  breathed 

from  a  crowd ! 
Yonder  the  royal  Tarquins  are  visible ; 

yonder  the  proud 
Soul  of  avenging  Brutus,  with   Rome's 

great  fasces  again 
Made    Rome's    own ;  who  first   to   her 

consul's  throne  shall  attain. 
Hold  her    terrible    axes ;    his  sons,  the 

rebellious  pair. 
Doom  to  a  rebel's  death  for  the  sake  of 

Liberty  fair. 
Ill-starred    sire !  let  the    ages  relate    as 

please  them  the  tale. 
Yet  shall  his  patriot  passion  and  thirst 

of  glory  prevail. 
Look  on  the  Decii  there,  and  the  Drusi ; 

hatchet  in  hand 
See  Torquatus  the  stern,  and  Camillus 

home  to  his  land 

169 


Marching  with  rescued  banners.  But 
yonder  spirits  who  stand 

Drest  in  the  shining  armour  alike,  har- 
monious now 

While  in  the  world  of  shadows  with 
dark  night  over  their  brow  — 

Ah  !  what  battles  the  twain  must  wage, 
what  legions  array. 

What  fell  carnage  kindle,  if  e*er  they 
reach  to  the  day  ! 

Father  descending  from  Alpine  snows 
and  Moncecus*s  height. 

Husband  ranging  against  him  an  Eastern 
host  for  the  fight ! 

Teach  not  your  hearts,  my  children,  to 
learn  these  lessons  of  strife  j 

Turn  not  a  country's  valour  against  her 
veriest  life. 

Thou  be  the  first  to  forgive,  great  child 
of  a  heavenly  birth. 

Fling  down,  son  of  my  loins,  thy  weap- 
ons and  sword  to  the  earth  ! 

"  See,  who  rides  from  a  vanquisht  Corinth 

in  conqueror's  car 
Home  to  the  Capitol,  deckt  with  Achaean 

spoils  from  the  war 
170 


Argos    and     proud    Mycenae    a    second 

comes  to  dethrone, 
Ay,  and  the  iEacus-born,  whose  race  of 

Achilles  is  sown, 
Venging  his  Trojan  sires  and  Minerva's 

outraged  fane  ! 
Who  would   leave  thee,  Cato,  untold  ? 

thee,  Cossus,  unknown  ? 
Gracchus*s  clan,  or  the  Scipio  pair,  war's 

thunderbolts  twain, 
Libya's  ruin  ;  —  forget  Fabricius,  prince 

in  his  need; 
Pass  unsung  Serranus,  his  furrows  sow- 
ing with  seed  ? 
Give    me    but    breath,   ye    Fabians,    to 

follow  !     Yonder  the  great 
Fabius  thou,  whose  timely  delays  gave 

strength  to  the  state. 
Others    will    mould    their   bronzes    to 

breathe  with  a  tenderer  grace. 
Draw,  I  doubt  not,  from  marble  a  vivid 

life  to  the  face. 
Plead  at  the  bar  more  deftly,  with  sapi- 
ent wands  of  the  wise 
Trace    heaven's    courses    and    changes, 

predict  us  stars  to  arise. 

171 


Thine,  O   Roman,  remember,  to  reign 

over  every  race ! 
These  be  thine  arts,  thy  glories,  the  ways 

of  peace  to  proclaim, 
Mercy  to  show  to  the  fallen,  the  proud 

with  battle  to  tame  !  " 

Thus  Anchises,  and  then  —  as  they  mar- 
velled —  further  anon : 
"  Lo,  where  deckt  in  a  conqueror's  spoils 

Marcellus,  my  son. 
Strides  from  the  war !     How  he  towers 

o'er  all  of  the  warrior  train  ! 
When  Rome  reels  with  the  shock  of  the 

wild  invaders'  alarm. 
He  shall   sustain  her   state.     From   his 

war-steed's  saddle,  his  arm 
Carthage  and  rebel   Gaul  shall  destroy, 

and  the  arms  of  the  slain 
Victor  a  third   time  hang  in  his  father 

Quirinus'  fane." 

Then   ^neas, —  for  near   him  a   youth 

seemed  ever  to  pace. 
Fair,  of  an  aspect  princely,  with  armour 

of  glittering  grace, 

172 


Yet  was  his  forehead  joyless,  his  eye  cast 

down  as  in  grief  — 
"  Who  can  it  be,  my  father,  that  walks 

at  the  side  of  the  chief? 
Is  it  his  son,  or  perchance  some  child 

of  his  glorious  race 
Born   from   remote   generations  ?      And 

hark,  how  ringing  a  cheer 
Breaks  from  his  comrades  round  !     What 

a  noble  presence  is  here ! 
Tho*  dark  night  with  her  shadow  of  woe 

floats  over  his  face  !  " 

Answer    again   Anchises    began   with   a 
gathering  tear : 

"  Ask  me  not,  O  my  son,  of  thy  chil- 
dren's infinite  pain ! 

Fate    one   glimpse   of   the    boy   to    the 
world  will  grant,  and  again 

Take    him    from    life.     Too    puissant 
methinks  to  immortals  on  high 

Rome's  great  children  had  seemed,  if  a 
gift  like  this  from  the  sky 

Longer   had    been    vouchsafed !     What 
wailing  of  warriors  bold 

Shall  from  the  funeral  plain  to  the  War- 
god's  city  be  rolled ! 
173 


What  sad  pomp  thine  eyes  will  discern, 

what  pageant  of  woe, 
When  by  his  new-made  tomb  thy  waters, 

Tiber,  shall  flow  ! 
Never  again  such  hopes  shall  a  youth  of 

thy  lineage,  Troy  ! 
Rouse  in  his  great  forefathers  of  Latium  ! 

Never  a  boy 
Nobler  pride  shall  inspire  in  the  ancient 

Romulus  land ! 
Ah,  for  his  filial  love !  for  his  old-world 

faith  !  for  his  hand 
Matchless   in   battle !     Unharmed  what 

foeman  had  oflTered  to  stand 
Forth  in  his  path,  when  charging  on  foot 

for  the  enemy's  ranks, 
Or  when  plunging  the  spur  in  his  foam- 
flecked  courser's  flanks ! 
Child    of    a    nation's    sorrow !    if   thou 

canst  baffle  the  Fates' 
Bitter   decrees,  and  break   for  a  while 

their  barrier  gates. 
Thine   to   become    Marcellus !     I   pray 

thee,  bring  me  anon 
Handfuls  of  lilies,  that  I  bright  flowers 

may  strew  on  my  son, 

174 


Heap  on  the  shade  of  the  boy  unborn 

these  gifts  at  the  least, 
Doing  the  dead,  tho'  vainly,  the  last  sad 

service."  —  He  ceast. 

So  from  region  to  region  they  roam  with 

curious  eyes. 
Traverse  the  spacious  plains  where  shad- 
owy darkness  lies. 
One  by  one  Anchises  unfolds  each  scene 

to  his  son. 
Kindling    his    soul  with    a    passion    for 

glories  yet  to  be  won ; 
Speaks    of    the    wars    that    await    him 

beneath  the  Italian  skies. 
Rude  Laurentian  clans  and  the  haughty 

Latinus's  walls. 
How  to    avoid  each    peril,  or   bear   its 

brunt,  as  befalls. 

Sleep  has  his  portals  twain  ;  one  fashioned 
of  horn,  it  is  said. 

Whence  come  true  apparitions  by  exit 
smooth  from  the  dead ; 

One  with  the  polisht  splendour  of  shin- 
ing ivory  bright. 

175 


False    are    the    only  visions    that    issue 

thence  from  the  night. 
Thither  Anchises  leads  them,  exchanging 

talk  by  the  way, 
There  speeds  Sibyl  and  son  by  the  ivory 

gate  to  the  day. 
Straight  to  his  vessels  and  mates  iEneas 

journeyed,  and  bore 
Thence  for  Caieta's  harbour  along  the 

Italian  shore. 


THE    END. 


176 


RETURN  TO  DfI^"^^  use 

™«N  TO  DBSK«,OM  WHICH  BORROWBD 

LOAN  OEPT 

«««  book  is  due  oo  the  last  rf,,  * 


(I>3279810)476B 


^"^^^SS^- 


515097 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


